Technically Alive
by 1kgal
Summary: Near knows he's alive in textbook terms, but without the ability to feel real emotions, he also knows he's missing out on a big part of being human. Maybe if he is around the most lively kids at Wammys, something might begin to change...
1. How Are You Feeling?

**Hello~! How are you? Doing great?**

**I guess this is the start of a MelloxNear FanFic so be warned... I don't know if I'll be able to pull this off well, but I will absolutely try my hardest! Victory will be mine! I'm a bit jumpy about this and how I happen to be wording things...but what's done is done. This will be all told by Near here...(hey, a rhyme!) and it's an..._interesting_ view on him, so yeah. Look forward to the next chappy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1: How are you feeling?**

The definition of alive is having life or living. The definition of life is the condition that distinguishes organisms from inorganic objects and dead organisms, being manifested by growth through metabolism, reproduction, and the power of adaptation to environment through changes originating internally.

So in technical terms, I _am_ alive. At least…I experience the normal symptoms of life. But, only the minimum requirements. The things that set humans apart from other organisms, I reputably lack.

It wouldn't be the first time, if someone said that I was a little less then lively. I can't deny the fact that any enthusiasm is absent in my everyday workings. I'm not one to go outside and play with the other children. I don't really argue, but I will tell you if I disagree. It is true that I try to avoid conversation… But, it isn't my fault. I'm not doing it on purpose. I just can't comprehend the emotional complexities that come with life. It's an ability I was born without.

I bet you couldn't imagine it; so to make it easier, the idea of not being able to use your emotions is like loosing any of your senses. I've missed out on things, just like someone blind misses out on things or that someone deaf misses out on things. It's a handicap on me. And I can't say that I like it, but I can't say that I don't like it. All I know for sure is—I'm confused.

I end up observing everyone around me, to see what emotion is. People getting frustrated, or happy, or depressed over the smallest things; like a grade, or someone's opinion. It's all absurd, but I almost want to try it…to see what I've lost.

Just recently, I heard talk about being crushed. After research, It was surprising to find a word that is initially used to describe the action of pressing or squeezing something until it was destroyed or deformed; is being used in order to define the feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection towards another person. But, because I'm clueless in the matter of feeling, and everything I have said is based on what I've read; I have no right to speak against their logic.

Anyways, I have never been crushed. The closest I ever managed, was respect for someone greater then me. And, along with crushed, I've never been jealous. Never scared. I can't say I know what sadness is. Or anger. I am nothing. I just am. And, I _know_ it's ridiculous. Almost as if I'm not human. I _know_.

And, I _know_ what I should feel in a situation. After watching people from the sidelines, I usually can figure out how I should feel based on similar situations from other people. But, when the time comes; there isn't the faintest tug in my heart—or from wherever you're supposed to feel emotion from.

I'm just an empty shell with knowledge and no experience. I know, yet I don't... Which makes me different. That's why I'm alone. Because, when someone's different, you avoid them. At least…that's what's been proven to me so many times.

* * *

I had finished my puzzle just after everyone left. I was alone, and no one was bothering me; which was normal for everyday except for today, so the break was a relief on my mind and body. Another round of putting together the white jigsaw seemed redundant; so adjusting to my situation, I spread myself across the floor, face up, to stare at the ceiling. It wasn't the most productive way to waste away time, but it's not as if I were missing out on anything anyway. All I have is time, and I'm not very ambitious, so there is nothing I really need to work towards.

I watched, uninterested, as the shadows of the students outside danced through the streaks of orange light on the ceiling. It was quiet in Whammy's for the first time today. Unfortunately, that was ruined by the slam of a door that shook all to where I was resting.

There was the sound of feet stomping though the halls, and eventually, voices of two familiar boys at the door.

"You _idiot!_ Why didn't you move!"

"I watont etspeting ou to fo a punts!"

With my head directed towards the door, I looked to see as a fiery blonde burst into the common room followed by a red head with a bloody nose. Not because I was interested, but because they were simply in my presence, I decided to observe the state of affairs presented before me. Mello, a blonde boy whose temper I have come across more than once, forcefully sat his partner down in an act only few would understand as a motion of kindness.

"Hold your head up or something and put pressure on it! I'll go get some Kleenex, so make sure Roger doesn't catch you bleeding!"

Not even taking time to get a response from his friend, he was out the door and on his quest for tissues.

Matt gave a nasally sigh, and through his tinted goggles I could see him roll his eyes to the ceiling. With one hand still pinching his nose shut, he wiped at a dribble of blood that was about to reach his mouth; ending up smearing it all over his face and hand. Instinctively, he went to wipe it off on his pants. Then he hesitated, obviously debating on the risk of ruining his clothes. The decision was made when he balled his hand into a fist, resting it against his knee. Matt glanced down at me, and my spot on the floor.

"Ey, Near," he said, leaning as far back as the chair would let him.

Pursing my lips, I continued to look at his position bowed back over the chair.

"I'm sorry to say this Matt, but it isn't a good idea to hold your head back like that. If you continue on that way, the blood will end up draining into your throat, and possibly drown you. Leaning forward while allowing it to drain would be the best option in my opinion."

Matt had no problem in trusting my word as he bent forward. "Heh. T'anks."

I nodded as best as I could while still on the ground; then returned to staring blankly at the ceiling.

It took a few moments, but I had finally settled back into a comfortable state, when peace was interrupted once again with the reappearance of Mello.

"I got them!" He shouted holding a Kleenex box in one hand and some loose tissues in the other.

Matt grinned and stood up, taking one to shove up each nostril.

"Thanks man," he said gratefully, grabbing another Kleenex to try and wipe his hands off.

Mello crossed his arms and scowled. "There would be no need for thanks if you left your face were it was! You get in the way at the worst times!"

"You thin' I _dried_ to get in the way?"

Relying on the information I had collected over my days in school, I quickly put together the most realistic scenario I could, of what likely happened.

Today, even though the sun was out, had been rather chilly—and I happen to know Mello is sensitive to the cold—so in weather like today he would be more irritated then that of a normal day. Looking at both Matt and Mello, they had grass stains from their knees to their elbows. The result of a game of football probably.

In the list of possible contributors; Dive, another boy here, was scolded this morning—so his temper was already strained. He would be _my_ guess.

Either boy could have started the argument, though Mello is usually the instigator, so I'd bet on him.

How did Matt get involved? Well, his nature around Mello is definitely loyal; and he is always curious about his friends business, but he sometimes acts without thinking ahead. He might have wanted to get a better look, or maybe provide simple encouragement to his comrade; but without observing the situation, he stuck his head in right as Mello reached his boiling point. Matt went unknowingly into the battle field and ended up in the crossfire.

There was an unnatural silence that eventually drew my weary attention. Looking up, I could see my presence was finally acknowledged by a displeased Mello. It wasn't a _surprise_ to see he was angry at the sight of me. Actually, I can't remember the last time I was surprised—but that's besides the point.

"Good afternoon, Mello," I said in proper greeting.

I watched as his lip curled into a ferocious sneer. It was one of the things about the cryptic boy I could never understand. Why do the most normal motions bother him so much? Specifically, why do _my_ motions bother him so much? It's not like I provoke his wrath intentionally…

Maybe, it's the rivalry to be top of the class. I wouldn't know, but is quite possible that constantly being known as 'second best' has created some ill-will feelings. And, from what I understand about emotion, he _could_ be jealous. The indications should be…irrationality, intense frustration, depression, anxiety, and bitterness regarding the accomplishments of the individuals around him.

Once again, knowing the problem doesn't help. I need to know the solution.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Mello asked in an accusing tone.

He clenched and unclenched his hands, probably wishing he could be hurting me at that very moment. Such an aggressive person; I could no doubt find a root of violence in any and all of his movements.

"I was simply here, laying down," I answered honestly.

Mello walked over, standing just above my head.

"You better not tell _anyone _about this!" he threatened, eyes glowing with hatred. "And, if you _do_, you're gonna have to worry about more than just a bloody nose!"

"I had no intention of telling anyone."

That's the truth. I've never liked gossip and it's an inefficient way to get information anyhow.

Mello continued to glare down at me with a steely blue gaze that most would tremble under. It never bothered me; though, it always made me genuinely interested in what he might be thinking.

Mello's eyes swooped back over to Matt who was still trying to tend to himself.

"You need to wash that off before I get in trouble."

"No worries!" Matt insisted. "I'll jus thay I ran inthu a wall or thumthin while playing one of my gabes."

"Even _if_ that sounds like something you may do, I'm getting sick of smelling your blood."

"I'm tho _thorry_ my blood doesn have an appealing _thent_! Well, could you at leath open the door then? It'd be bethed to get to the bathroom without leaving handprints all over everythin'."

Mello breathed out heavily from his nose, opening the door as if it were the most tedious task he could have been asked to do. Matt hunched over; sneaking into the hallway, shadowed by his colleague.

Alone, I took a deep breath; along with feeling my ribs pop. I held in a gasp and gritted my teeth, making myself still while waiting for the pain to go away.

* * *

Mello seems to consist of _noise_. It's something—I and everyone here—needed to get used to over time. And, not just when he is slamming a door; but when he is in an argument and yelling, or stomping off through the halls when in a particularly bad mood, the way he breathes heavily when frustrated…

Another thing about him, is the way he wears his emotions on his sleeve. It's the most intriguing thing about him; especially because he reacts differently than most in that same situation. He's such a complicated person. I've always been drawn to complicated things…I guess that's why I even care to think about him during my free time. He is by far the liveliest person I've ever encountered. It's obvious that we're both on opposite sides of the emotional spectrum. He lives in the moments, rambunctious and proud. I have less personality than a pet fish. We're polar opposites.

…I could add _that_ to the list of things that gives Mello a reason not to like me. People avoid those who are too different. Well…except in _my_ case, but that's what makes me even more different from everyone else.

* * *

It no longer hurt to breathe, so I sat myself up.

The sun was dangerously close to setting, and the sounds of the other children shuffling through the halls signified the end of the day.

Leaving my puzzle on the floor to wait for me until tomorrow, I stepped with bare feet into the corridor. A few heads turned on seeing me, but turned back just as easily to their business once they got an eyeful.

Watching the badly scuffed wooden floor passed under me, I walked the pre-calculated path that would lead me to my room.

"Near!"

I was stopped at the base of the steps as my assumed name was called again.

"Near! Wait up!"

Turning around, I brought my head up to see none other than Linda, quickly tiptoeing behind me, trying to catch up.

Slouching my posture, I counted the seconds it took her to reach me. Six.

"Yes, Linda?" I asked politely as she stopped in front of me.

She dropped her gaze, all of a sudden focused on picking at her fingernails.

"I didn't see you outside today…" she mumbled, saddened.

"That's understandable. I wasn't outside today."

"I know." Linda perked up, letting me see her round little face once more. "But, I told you it's ok to come to maybe just hang out. It might be fun!"

I highly doubted the girl had _anything_ that I would or _could_ consider fun. I haven't experienced _fun_ once in this "life" of mine, so I'm sure that's good enough reasoning.

"I see. Well, thank you for inviting me. I'll remember your offer."

I should have felt guilty after seeing how happy I had made her while secretly planning to ignore the invitation; but with what I born without, my heart is stone. I really didn't care if she would be disappointed. I'm hypocritical. There is no moral obligation behind why I act polite. I am simply acting selfishly in order to avoid needless confrontation. I don't care about _anybody._

Linda nodded, smiling so wide it looked painful. "Ok! I hope to see you soon! Bye!"

I let her run away with her false securities, as she skipped back to her own room. It had been an inconvenience to be held up by her meaningless chatter, and I silently started walking back up the old staircase; probably the last boy out of his room.

* * *

There was an indistinguishable ticking as I passed by closed doors, finally, reaching the familiar wooden paneling that was my own. Jiggling the knob, I pushed my way into the room I spent every night in.

Just as I was closing the door for the night, I was distracted at the sound of voices in the hall. I didn't intend to listen in, but I ended up doing so anyway.

"You're going to get more already? You went last night too... How do you run out so fast—"

"Shut up, already! I won't be gone long. I'll be back _later_."

Footsteps sounded in my direction. Quietly as possible, I clicked the door shut.

Then I waited. Ear pressed against the door, listening to make sure I wasn't noticed. After a few minutes I was satisfied, dragging my feet until I was able to fall safely into bed.

The door opened.

"What were you doing listening to us?"

Groaning, I rubbed at the headache that was starting to form right above my eyebrow.

"Hello again. What ever inspired a visit from you at this hour, Mello?"

"I _swear_, if Roger-"

In an attempt to get rid the noise as soon as possible, I cut him off. "I didn't _hear_ anything. I didn't _see_ anything. I was _here._ Sitting in my bed. Doing nothing."

I wish I could have seen him better. The lights were off, and the shades were closed from earlier. All I could make out were his outline, and eyes. Luminous blue spheres glowing against a black backdrop.

The heat of Mello's anger was almost tangible as he stood completely still, eyes still glinting menacingly.

"I'm sorry, but unless there is something else you need of me; I would like to get some rest now."

There was a scoff as Mello slammed the door shut.

Not even minding to get out of my clothes, not even minding to get under the covers, I dropped myself back onto the mattress. I was drained, and now, suffering a headache. I wasn't expecting to have to deal with so many people today. The children hardly ever try to converse with me, but all through this morning I kept getting question, after offer, after comment. Complete madness.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on sleep. Starting with my fingertips, I relaxed each muscle until there were none left to worry about. Then, I began to strip away my ideations, one by one until my insides were bare, and my last strand of thought was plucked; leaving me nothing but sleep and an empty nothing dream.

* * *

**Oh my, This doesn't look like the start of a romance at all! Nothing has changed! Mello is sending all these hate vibes! What are you thinking writer? Are you crazy!**

**Do not worry my pretties...the time will come when everyone learns to get along all sweet and nice like. Reviews are very welcome and I will even respond to each one with a personal thanks! Come on! You know you want to!**

**Sorry folks! There has been some controversy about the cracking/popping of Nears ribs. Think of it like cracking your knuckles. Nothing serious at all...it just hurts hurts like heck and it hurts too much to move for a few seconds. Sorry again!**


	2. Icy Hot

**Gosh, it took me a lot longer then expected to finish this chapter! Of course, I was away for almost a whole month so that is a big reason. Another is I kind of lost inspiration...but I got over that! I really do have fun writing this and I actually don't know where the story is going...Hmm. X3**

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**Chapter 2: Icy Hot**

At 6:30 a.m. my body woke itself up as conditioned. Like every other morning, it felt as though I had closed my eyes only seconds ago. No dreams to remember. No feeling of rejuvenation. It's a shame, but my energy always seems capped off at minimum capacity. Nothing left to spare, only enough to keep me awake and walk when necessary. I'm basically in a foggy haze throughout my daily consciousness. At times, I can visibly _see_ the corners of my vision fading back into the dark of my isolated mind…

And, now that it's in my direct attention, it almost seems a _good_ thing that I don't dream; otherwise I would probably have troubles telling _them_ from reality. There is always a silver lining. Not that that is necessarily the shiniest lining, but it's a lot better than letting everything fall apart with nothing left to hold it together anymore.

Maybe that's on the way towards an answer? If only I knew which problem it might solve…

Rolling off the mattress; I went over, flicking the switch on the wall. Light from the dim 50 watt bulb flooded the room with a milky glow. Without any rationalism behind it, I happen to prefer natural light apposed to artificial; but, with the bulb as my only option, I was fine just the same. My only explanation for even _having_ a preference is to look at the instance like the decision over paper or plastic. You usually stick to one or the other, but if there's no choice, you can't complain. After all—it's just a bag.

Accepting whatever light provided, I went to the dresser across the room as routine called for. There is only one choice in garment; so grabbing what was on top, I peeled off yesterday's wears, and put on another cotton button up and pants.

The old clothes were tossed into a hamper, and then I went on to fix the bed. Another possible answer could be that I'm using all my energy while asleep. Sure enough, every morning I wake up upside down with my blanket on the ground, the sheets bunched up to make some sort of makeshift nest, and my pillow tucked between my legs. I am _positive_ that sort of thing isn't normal. Then again, I've never been close to qualifying as normal, so that fact makes it not _so_ abnormal. Maybe I should look up sleeping disorders during my free time.

I tucked each corner of the wrinkled sheet into it's corresponding corner; then on went the thick comforter, and lastly, my pillow. All business in my room was finished; so grabbing the work I would be needing for class, I went into the hallways to wander until everyone started to get up.

* * *

Using my hands and feet in order to tell where I was going, I made my way downstairs. My original plan was to go into the common room and wait while everyone was moving around; but unbeknownst to me, I went outside instead.

_Why did I come out here? _I asked myself as I stood just outside the door, exposed in the frigid morning air.

Sometimes it's like I'm not even in control. Like, I am just a puppet and a set of strings—with some grand puppeteer conducting my actions for me. Something like that would explain my painful indifference to the other children. A puppet can't dream. A puppet has no will. And, a puppet can't _feel_.

…or maybe it was natural human instinct—to want to be _free_ once in a while. Even _if_ my mind wanted the safe confines of inside; my body wanted to get out. Maybe the fact that something inside of me wanted to get out, verifies that I'm human too…in the most meager sense the word, but still, human the same.

Putting aside thoughts of why; I went along with whatever—whether puppet strings, or the instinctive need to be free—pushed me forward, taking my first step onto the neatly trimmed grass. It was cold, and wet as my bare soles sunk slightly into the damp earth. Even with the risk of catching a cold hanging over my head, I moved on.

A breeze came over, cutting through the thin fabric of my clothes. My skin gave an automatic response, bumps running up and down my legs. I was a regular idiot, like this and out in the cold, but I still continued. Using carefully placed steps, I trekked across the grounds towards the mantle of trees.

Finally, I felt content with how far I had come. Sitting down to rest; I allowed my mind to wander— I'm inside a lot. Either waiting for nothing in particular, and tying to waist time; or dwelling on the fact of emotion. 'What is it and what's it like?' Maybe while stuck on things like that, I was strangling the growth of my physical body? It isn't a good thing to be so worn after walking for only a few moments. I'm likely close to breaking. Nod. My body is taking over in a desperate attempt to stay alive. It's the last struggle before the end… I don't really know if that kind of thing is possible, but the facts are; I am shorter then a lot of the boys. I bruise easily. I have a complexion equivalent to that of an eight year old. And, I am completely and _utterly_ out of order, despite my exterior appearance. It's almost laughable…in a situation where I could feel amusement.

A gust of wind through the trees, stirring the leaves and unsettling the silence, sent away my ideas and calculations; letting me bask in a moment of oblivion.

* * *

I don't know how much time passed by before I remembered I was still there, and not just a part of the scene. Somewhere between watching the sky wane from violet to blue; listening to the noise of rustling, chirping and humming; feeling the nip of cold at my ears, nose and toes; smelling the earth below me… Somewhere in there.

But, I've learned that if you wait long enough, all things end with time. And, it isn't favorable to skip classes either.

It was hard to keep balance as I slipped through the hallway, eternally regretting my choice in going outside. _Nothing_ was achieved besides wet feet, and the possibility of getting sick later. There was no need, and I was _stupid_ for being enticed for even an _instant_. I even mentioned beforehand that I was being idiotic. Outside, it's a lively place with everything existing as part of one big composition. I was simply overwhelmed. I have to remember, it could potentially be a dangerous place for someone like me.

Missing breakfast, I headed straight to the classroom; avoiding any confrontation from children who might decide to approach me today. And even though I was held up earlier, I still ended first to arrive. Sitting down, I stared at my desk. Nothing better to do than think. Gradually, children started to filter in, filling the seats around me.

Soon, I noticed the talking in hushed whispers, and occasionally there would be someone peeking over at me—only to turn away once we made eye contact. I didn't know what it was, but something was up. It didn't take long for me to find out.

Mello slammed his hands down on my desk in a motion most dramatic to ensure attention. _I was hoping to avoid anything today._ I grudgingly brought my head up to see his face, inches from mine.

"I was looking for you this morning, Near. I couldn't find you anywhere, and I was worried you might have gone and done something _stupid_."

I calmly wiped the flecks of spit that had landed on my cheek. He still thought I was going to tell on him. I've never given him a reason to not believe me, yet he childishly sticks with an issue that has already been resolved.

"I'm sorry, your trepidations were for naught. I wouldn't dare do anything to spite you."

Mello quickly shifted to violence and fisted the collar of my shirt, pulling me closer in a virulent execution. His breath tickled at my ear as he warned in a whisper, "You missed your last chance to tell someone. I _promise_."

Mello backed away slowly, all the while glaring at the rest of the class. Everyone had hastily looked anywhere else, feigning ignorance. Then, he went to the back of the room to sit alone.

Even after Mello left, the smell of him lingered behind; and throughout the entire lesson I was plagued by the chocolaty sent that stained the inside my nose. He defiantly needed to slow down on sweet intake if he could leave such an impression after only a few breaths. Along with that, and Mello staring a hole into the back of my head, I was distracted fairly more than I would have liked. By the time I was able to leave, I was desperate to be alone.

"Where are _you _going?"

I rested my head on the common room door. I was that _close_ to getting away. Now, I had to confront a bothered Mello, and his ridiculous idea of me tattling on him.

"Nowhere…" I sighed. "I won't tell anyone, so you can stop worrying now."

Even though I knew Mello was much more stubborn than that, I could always hope he would accept matters as they were, and get on with his business. I reached for the handle, but to my precalculated misfortune Mello wasn't going to prove me wrong today. Maybe business was slow.

I couldn't escape the vice grip he had around my wrist. Mello squeezed tighter and tighter, and all I could do was grit my teeth. He was most likely trying to break it.

"But, I made a _promise,_" he purred with a fake, kindly demeanor. "So, how about you come and-"

"Near? What's happening?"

I don't know who so gracefully sent the _one_ person Mello couldn't stand to be around, but I owed them. Linda stood looking concerned, as her gaze went from me, to Mello, to the tight hold on my wrist.

"_Nothing!_" Mello growled, dropping his nice act. "Now go _away_."

Linda paid no attention, taking another step towards me. "Is everything ok, Near?"

Mello glared daggers, but I knew he wouldn't attempt anything with Linda around. She was notorious for running to Roger in any situation, and he couldn't risk it.

Suddenly, an idea.

"You know, Linda, I was going to take you up on your offer to go outside. If that's ok…"

"Really? _Yes_! Yes, you can come out with me!"

Just the response I wanted.

Mello's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?" he whispered under his breath.

It was time for him to stop the stupidity, and realize I didn't care what he did yesterday, or _any_ day for that matter. And, if I had to use Linda to force him away from me, I was willing to do so. I do not mind being with Linda, but Mello loathes her. I don't know why. I've never seen them get into a _fight_ or anything. Then again, I don't get out much.

"It's such a nice day out too! I know exactly where we should go!" Linda grabbed my other hand, pulling me free from thrall. I don't know how Mello took the situation, but I could bet he wasn't pleased.

I allowed myself to be led out behind the thrilled pigtailed girl, grateful to get away from he who was so dead set on monitoring me. Just a few moments of silence is all I wanted. Inside my mind, I knew that this little bit of escapism would cost tremendously in the long run, but for right now, I wasn't going to think about that.

The sun was blinding as we stepped into the early afternoon light. It was a drastic change from earlier. The grass was dry and crunchy, the air considerably hotter, and the number of people roaming about was notable too. I honestly, did not want to be out again, but to gain one thing, I had to loose another. I have no idea what Mello is planning to do with me, but I doubt it is a simple and reasonable conversation—involving no violence or harsh language. Might as well delay the unavoidable for as long as I can.

Linda bounced playfully as she lead me to a sunny patch of grass, half hidden by a cluster of bushes. Sitting down and hugging her knees to her chest, Linda patted the spot next to her.

"Come and sit!"

Even though it was safe to exit out of this company with Mello out of sight, I took a seat out of courtesy. Well, maybe not courtesy, but it would be bothersome to have her continue inviting me out. I only had to bare it this once to satisfy her needs. Linda smiled brightly, ignorant of my ill thoughts towards her.

"I'm _super_ glad you could come! I wasn't expecting you to accept so soon…but, I don't mind at all! You can come outside with me whenever you want! We can just talk like this or whatever! This is a nice place isn't it? I like it. It's nice and sunny. I like the sun because it's so warm and friendly. But, I like the winter too! And, the fall…and spring too. I like about every season—"

I watched as Linda blathered on, nodding on occasion to look as if she held my attention.

I went on as long as I could, about five minuets, and finally I came to the conclusion that it was far too hot outside. Apparently, I can't handle the heat—which isn't much of a shock, but still rather unpleasant. Trying to be subtle, I went to unbutton the top of my shirt. Unfortunately, Linda was paying very close attention through all her chatter.

"N-Near?" she stammered with a blush.

Right. Undressing yourself in front of the opposite gender is supposed to be embarrassing. Don't do it.

"Sorry," I apologized. "I wasn't thinking. It's just so hot out… I can fix it if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No. Do what you need to do, it doesn't bother me."

I couldn't tell if she was lying for my sake or if she really didn't mind; but if she was going to say something, she was going to have to live with the repercussions. I went ahead, unbuttoning the rest of my shirt, taking it off and draping it over my head as veil to block the sun. Linda was suddenly a lot less talkative, watching my crawl to hide in the shade of the bushes. Yes. A moment to rest.

I wonder if Mello is going to leave me alone from now on. It's a little bit…what is a proper word to use? _Annoying—_that he cannot trust me. I have never been a talebearer. All the countless times he would purposely destroy my toys, verbal abuse—not to mention those few instances with physical violence...though, on that subject—Mello has never _beat_ me like he would the other boys. Sure, he goes out of his way to find means for conflict, but he's never punched me. Never broke a bone, never ever broke the skin. He has left bruises, but that is not difficult, and they fade quickly. It's a curious thought. I wonder why…

"—tomorrow?"

I looked at Linda with a blank stare. When had she started talking?

"Hm?"

"So, what do you think about coming tomorrow?"

She wanted me to come out with her again? The idea of going outside was no longer out of the question, with me being so daring recently, but I would rather be alone without having to uphold a useless conversation.

"I don't know…"

Linda crawled out of the sun to sit beside me. "It would be nice if we had a pool on hot days like this. Don't you agree?"

She was much too close. I don't like people invading my personal space. "Sure…"

"What are _you_ doing?"

_Why?_ Over a single meaningless instance—_why_ is he so persistent?

"Mello?" Linda said with a pout. Why did _she_ sound so disappointed?

Mello stared past, ignoring her entirely. "You should have the consideration to hide that hideously blanched body. It's unattractive."

Straight to the argument.

Well, I wasn't going to go along with it. I couldn't give a response anyway—without any way to measure beauty, how could I say he was wrong? I've never been attracted to anything, and that's something I've learned to live without. Nothing is beautiful in my eyes. Nothing makes me feel. Everything gets the same emptiness.

Mello scoffed, bringing out a chocolate bar to gnaw on. "I was just checking to see what you were up to. You have a lot of balls to undress on the first date." He finally acknowledged Linda with a pointed glance.

"WHAT!" Linda gasped, turning pink.

Date? Mello was seriously misled if he felt that he were interrupting some sort of romantic engagement. Mello gave a self-satisfied smile at Linda's reaction...although, I guess he wasn't as impressed with my placid expression; because upon sight he clenched his teeth, snapping the chocolate into big chunks that tumbled to the ground. Instantly, there was a swarm of ants, leaving the treat unsaveable.

I resentfully slid the shirt off my head, putting it on properly. It was too hot to have to play his childish games.

"I am going inside." I got up and walked away, leaving Linda.

The soft padding of feet behind be hinted at Mello's continued relentless following. I ignored him keeping a straight path towards Wammys. Where was Matt? He should be a good enough distraction to get me away.

It was easy enough to find the red head, because he had been looking for us too. Well…for Mello at least.

"Mello!" Matt hollered, jogging over. He was looking a lot better from the last time I had saw him. Then again, last time I saw him there was blood coming out his nose.

Matt had his goggles pushed up revealing his jaunty green eyes. In my peripheral, I saw Mello wave in acknowledgment. I had to leave soon—once they get talking.

"Watcha doing?" Matt asked, letting out a deep breath.

I'd say he was stalking me.

"Nothing," Mello replied carelessly. He magically produced another chocolate bar, nibbling on the corner.

The friend gave a bemused sigh and in a southern accent said, "Your gonna get diabetus ther…"

"Well, your gonna get lung cancer," Mello answered snidely. "So _ther_."

Matt looked at him with alarm. Then, looked at me, the bystander. Am I cursed to have people reveal their secrets to me, or is Mello doing this all on purpose? At the moment, it seems intentional.

"Don't worry. He won't be able to tell anyone," he added, minding Matt's expression.

"You know…I really don't care. I won't tell anyone," I insisted. I just want to go back to spending the day by myself. "Besides, I don't have any proof. Knowing doesn't matter. It's just gossip with no evidence to support. You don't have to keep an eye on me—I swear."

Mello ignored me, continuing his conversation with Matt. "Anyway, what are you doing?"

Seriously. Was that the way he dealt with things he didn't like? Ignore whatever you don't want to hear… This had to be some sort of sick game for him. The reason he never beats me is because he cruelly tortures me by picking at me mentally. Open wounds heal, broken bones mend over time, but mental trauma never really and _truly_ goes away. He was saving the worse for me. And all because of grades? It isn't worth it. In the end, it doesn't matter to me. I don't care about anything other then myself. I'd be satisfied to sleep my life away with no responsibilities. There is nothing important to me. " –and guess what? I caught this guy stripping for that annoying girl."

Matt went through an array of different expressions before settling with a pressed obscurity. "Really?"

There was no way I could talk myself out of the miscommunication with Mello present, so I took what was coming without response. Mello looked at me, daring me to deny. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he'll get bored and leave me alone. No—there is no right response with Mello. He'll get angry either way, because for some reason that I don't understand, he wants to fight with me.

I stared straight ahead, pretending to be oblivious to everything.

Mello cursed under his breath. He wasn't happy. "Well, sorry I have to dump this on you, but for now we have to keep a close eye on him. I can't be in two places at once, so you have to be there when I'm not. Got it?"

Matt frowned deeper. "I got it, but don't you think you're going too far? I don't think he—"

"I have to do something," Mello interrupted, biting off another piece of chocolate. "Make sure he doesn't go near Roger."

And so, Matt and I were left stranded in the yard while Mello walked off to do whatever his business called for. It was uncomfortable standing in the direct sun, but as long as Matt was standing there, I supposed it would be best for him to make the first move. Silence was exchanged and nothing else. I don't see how he could stand to be in long sleeves like that. I know that I'm wearing them as well, but mine are a thin material; his were more suited for early fall—not now in the middle of the year. And speaking of improper dress, Mello was wearing all black. If studies are right, that would make everything hotter as well. What are they—cold-blooded? I can't _stand_ this heat.

"So, do you want to go back to her?"

Matt had at sometime pushed his goggles back down without me noticing.

"Who?"

"You know," He said, seeming to force his words out. He kicked at the grass, and looked away. This was a situation I could not figure out.

"Back to Linda?" Why would Matt suggest something that would allow us to separate? He was supposed to watch me. Well, if this were some sort of trick—it wasn't going to go his way. Though, Matt doesn't seem like the plotting type in the first place.

Whatever he anticipated to hear, the truth was… "I'd rather not. She was only company out of coincidence, and she shouldn't be expecting my return anyway."

"Oh."

Now was as good a time as ever to explain, "Please, listen. I'm not one to care about other peoples matters, so there's no need to fear about me telling anyone. It was an unfortunate circumstance, and I understand that—so there's no need to keep an eye on me."

Matt nodded. It's strange how he so easily believes me. So very unlike Mello. It's a wonder how they get along...

"Yeah. I'd say Mello is just paranoid, but he's already on parole with Roger and the rest of the staff. One more bad mark against him, and all his grades are dropped. I know you're probably not gonna do anything, so I thought I could leave you alone with your girl."

_My_ girl? The thought was ridiculous. "Another thing. That was an exaggeration—there are no feelings between the two of us." There aren't feelings between me and anyone.

"Oh," Matt started to chew his thumb nail. "Mm, what is there to do then?"

Well, perhaps he could be more reasonable with my requests. "It is a bit too hot here for me. Perhaps, we could go back inside?"

Matt nodded, thumb still at his lips. "Sure."

I was grateful to have someone to listen to me without an outrageous reaction. I couldn't help but sigh as I finally reentered the safe haven, away from conditions prompting a cold and yet perhaps heatstroke. It's amazing how only a few hours can make such a difference. I followed Matt up the stairs without realizing it. Soon, he stopped to confront my actions.

"What are you still doing?"

I stared through his goggles, directly into his eyes.

Matt fidgeted and asked again, "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to run into Mello."

Matt leaned, putting all his weight onto one leg. "Well, then I'm the _last_ guy you want to be with."

I shook my head in disagreement. "It'd be much worse if he found me alone, then with you where I am supposedly supposed to be."

Matt nodded knowingly. "Ah, I see. I guess that's right... Well, I was planning to hole myself up in my room and play a few games, but if you'd rather do something else, I can postpone."

Once again, he was nothing like his temperamental friend. "No. Anything is fine as long as we stay inside."

"Alright. I usually don't invite a lot of other people into my room…"

Matt started walking again and I made sure to follow. The room we entered was like the rest of the rooms. A single bed, a dresser, other miscellaneous items not necessary to mention. I made sure to stay out of the way as Matt rustled through his desk drawer and finally pulled out a DS. I expected him to sit on his bed, but strangely enough, he took a seat on the floor. Music played as he started his game, while I stood in the corner trying to be as quiet as possible.

,Matt looked at me after a short moment. "What are you doing?"

"Staying out of your way."

He shook his head, closing the DS. "No, no, no. I can't play a game with some guy standing there! Sit on the bed—I made sure there was room."

So that is why he sat there?

"You're company. I _insist._" Matt smiled, patting the mattress behind him. How should one react in this situation? I should be happy, right? I think so. I'd like to at least fake a smile, but I'm sure if I tried it would be hideous.

"Thank you," I said, at least conveying some sort of gratitude.

I climbed onto the firm mattress, sitting cross-legged just behind him. He opened and started to play his game as easily as before. I watched him play for a while, not because I was interested but simply because it was there. I'm not sure of what to think of it. I didn't understand the point... With only the sound of buttons being pressed, it was unexpectedly calm. Time passed, and It became evident that my limited energy was on a downward slope. Usually, I could manage until the end of the day, but today was an exception. It wouldn't do any harm if I just lied down for a second. Not to fall asleep—just conserve energy.

I relaxed, lying flat on my back and staring up at the ceiling. It may have looked like every other room, but this still wasn't my room. Most prominent was it smelled different. It smelled like another boy. It smelled like Matt I guess… and, maybe it was just from the influence of sleep, but also the sent of chocolate. It wouldn't be so farfetched—since they _are_ friends. I still don't know why though.

"Of all the people…why Mello?"

"Huh?" Matt turned back around.

I guess I'm mixing my thoughts and speech. "Sorry. I was just thinking about how you and Mello are friends."

The red-head scratched his head, "Yeah? And?"

"Why Mello? How did _that_ turn out?"

Matt raised his goggles, rubbing his eyes. "Why? I dunno. That's just how things turned out. We've been together for a long time."

"What do you like about him?"

"I guess I dunno. He's cool. He's smart. He's fun. I dunno, stuff like that?"

I nodded, letting him go back to pressing buttons. I don't know much about Matt. Obviously, because I never thought he would treat me this way. It was so casual for him to interact with me, and it isn't something I can comprehend for some reason.

My eyes are starting burn from forcing them to stay open. I could close them for just a minute. I have enough control not to fall asleep in someone else's room. Just close them for a little bit. Then, they can open right back up and I will continue to stay awake until I'm told to return to my own room. Nothing's going to happen. I can trust myself.

* * *

Who am I kidding, I knew I was just making up excuses. Laying down to conserve energy, closing my eyes to stop them from drying; it was all to give me the opportunity to "accidentally" fall asleep.

* * *

**Was the time I spent worth it? I dunno... I wasn't originally going for this ending, but that's how it turned out. The story had taken a life of its own! Run away! (Not really! I would like you to stay and love my story through all the ups and downs. All the goods and bads. Ect.) X33**


	3. Boredom

**Oh my! A finished chapter! Um...what to say? Sorry for taking so long.**

**And there's an OC in here now... Yup. You'll be meeting her.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Boredom**

Eventually I awoke; sitting up upon realizing what I had done. I had let myself fall into sleep's grasp while in Matt's bed. That was an inevitable fact. Even though I felt myself nodding off, I didn't leave. I told lies, and convinced myself that I was able to control my actions. Looks as though I can't do _that _anymore. I've asked myself—_w__hy am I doing this?—_more then ever recently. I admit—involving Matt was childish, and unlike me. There is no taking it back, though.

What I need to know now, is whether someone brought me back to my own room without me knowing; or had I remained in his bed for the duration of my time asleep?

Looking around and trying to recognize anything familiar didn't turn out successful. The dark was so prominent I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, let alone anything else. Patting the bed around me, I tried to find something that would hint to where I was. However, I realized that method was getting me nowhere. The beds were the same in every room, and I had to try something else.

Blindly, I stuck my feet off the bed to feel for the floor. If I could reach the light switch, then I could be assured of where I was. Though, it caught me off guard when I felt something else other then a wooden floor.

Pulling my feet back up; I flipped onto my stomach and reached out, using my hands as sensors. Letting my fingers drift through empty space, I waited to once again come across whatever loomed beside the bed. Brushing against a soft head of hair, my first retraction was as if I had touched an open flame instead of the numerous fine, keratinous filaments. Then, I leaned in close to clarify my suspicions. When concentrating, I could almost imagine seeing Matt's faint outline sprawled out beneath. So, I was still in his room. But, why? This wasn't right...why hadn't he woken me up?

Above his head, there was a small green light flashing on and off periodically. Stretching an arm over, I grabbed Matt's DS. It took a while before I was able to open it, but the time came where I finally exposed the bright pause menu for the game he'd been playing. Using the screen as a light, I looked around the room. At last, I caught a good look at Matt, cuddled on the hardwood floor, sleeping soundly.

I didn't know what to do—or why I even cared. Should I wake him up? Or maybe I shouldn't do anything? I didn't know him well enough—and I didn't know the situation well enough—to know what would happen if I tried. I grimaced at the problem I was creating.

In order to discipline, I mentally poked myself for the ideas crawling into my brain. It was wrong to think that I was almost _feeling considerate_ of another human being. I must not ever go as far as to allow myself to think feelings are a part of my reality. It's idealistic to think I can change, and those ideas only lead to another dead end where I realize again how alien I am to what "feeling" really is.

_I don't care about others,_ I've told myself a thousand times and now once more. _It's impossible for me to care about others._

I should know myself better than anyone. There is probably some selfish reasoning behind this compulsion to do something kind—whether I can name it right now or not. There has never been an event where I did something that wouldn't, in the end, benefit me. Well, except the few occasions where I would do something out of pure boredom. Though, this wasn't one of _those_ times either. This was neither nor. An unexplainable occurrence. I couldn't bring myself to leave and do nothing. I had to do something to...thank him. Or, whatever.

A thought strung through my mind, hanging right behind my eyes to make sure to get my attention. _If I can't feel like a human, I could at least act like one. _I took that as a good explanation for my strange attitude, and I crawled off the bed; carefully watching my step as I crept around Matt's head. I had dragged the blanket off along with me and stared at it for a while. The strand of thought still hung before my eyes, reminding me of why I was doing this. I was pretending to be human. And, this is what a human might do. In a few awkward motions, I tried, to my best ability, to cover him.

Was that right? I tried to figure out an answer, but there just weren't any that made sense. I shook my head. _Why should I care? It's not like I'm jeopardizing anything meaningful to me if he doesn't like it. _I shut the DS and put it back on the floor next to Matt's head.

* * *

There was nothing to go by but my awareness of floor as I walked; sweeping my feet back and fourth, creating a narrow radar that might detect a potential hazard such as a wall or downward staircase. Yet, despite my efforts, I ended up tripping and falling anyway. I guess I lost balance while trying to walk with one foot waving around to feel anything that might trip me. Ironic…and _just_ my luck.

Defeated by gravity, I stayed where I was, lying face first on the ground. The floor smelled of must and dust, with something sticky under my left hand. Great. It was times like this where I wish I could stop existing. Just fade away until I was nothing but a memory that was doomed to die soon after I did… But, we all know stuff like that doesn't happen.

_I wonder what's in store for me today._

* * *

Mello has been oddly lenient today. Matter of fact, he has barely spoke a word to me. After picking myself up off the floor earlier, I made it back to my room without any other mishaps, to relax in my own bed for a while. Of course, I wasn't able to get back to sleep. A few hours of that, I got up to go to class and happened to pass Mello in the hallway. Not a word. Not even a _look_. That was my relatively quiet morning.

After class, I was alone in the common room. The whole day I had been left alone. Not even Matt sent to check in on me. Just like I had wanted… Right?

I fell back into my old practice; sitting on my own while playing with the little toys left about the floor.

_I'm bored._

There's nothing interesting _around_ though. Not that there was anything interesting before—but that has never _bothered_ me before either. It was a state of ennui.

I threw the little toy solder in my hand against the wall, watching it bounce off and skid across the floor. I wish it was as simple as to play with a toy and be fulfilled. But, there is no satisfaction for me. There is only satisfaction when you get something that you want. The thing is—I don't want anything. I'm not motivated. I don't have goals. I can only wonder what it would be like to want something, and to get that something, and to feel good about it. As it seems, if I want to want something, I'll have to find something interesting by myself.

I stood and left the empty room, determined to resolve my problem.

I tried to walk my frustration off at first, but that didn't help. Walking is a stale and uneventful exercise—I don't see the entertainment in it. Anyway, it wasn't what I would consider interesting, so I drifted into the library. A few of the studious children sat at the tables reading, but no one interesting. I browsed along the titles on a few shelves. Nothing interesting...

_Where is everyone?_

Outside the window I watched as of a group of kids ran past. _Outside_. There had to be something of interest in such an alive place. Outside, everything is different. Everything is unpredictable. The sound of children again caught my attention. Maybe something interesting is out there.

Lurking in the shadows like a weary cat, I walked the perimeter of the orphanage until a rambunctious group of children playing soccer came into sight. Oh look. Matt and Mello are there too. Interesting.

I sat down in the dry, crunchy grass—and believe it or not…I was distracted enough to forget my boredom. With my head resting on my knees, I watched everyone—_those_ _two_ _in_ _particular—_running around. Slowly, the ennui festering inside me went away. I guess, I should get out more often... I don't know what exactly made me forget my troubles. There's no way to tell with so many possible variables—I don't fully understand it myself.

I couldn't say how much time I spent in that crouched position, my eyes darting back and fourth as I watched everything before me—I _do_ know that when I went to stand back up, it felt likeas though my joints had been welded together. Everyone was splitting up to do their own business. That meant that they would be coming in my direction. _All_ of them. I pushed through the stiffness, hiking up speed and trying to make it inside before anyone could spot me.

I managed to slip into the common room before a stampede of kids came trampling through. I went to sit in one of the high backed chairs, curling my legs up close to my chest. _Why did I have to run away? _It was so I could avoid being trodden on…but why did I have to hide as well?

"You are so predictable, did you know that?" Mello droned, strolling in with Matt at his side.

As a matter of fact, I _didn't_ know that. And I don't see how it could be true anyway—even _I_ didn't have a clue about what I was doing, let alone someone else. Even if that were so though, I don't care if I am predictable or not. I am content with having the two of them around to keep the feeling of boredom, and the feeling of want, at bay. However, it worked, and I wasn't going to question it. Whatever it was.

I put my feet down to sit properly. "Good day, Mello. Matt."

Mello scoffed. "What's so good about it? Just because I left you alone for a while, doesn't mean you should get arrogant. This is an olive branch for you, so don't ruin it."

Matt was casually standing by his friend's side, gaze flickering between the Mello and I.

I wonder what he's thinking. Unlike Mello, who leaves all his emotions on the surface, Matt always has the same and never-changing carefree expression. But—that's not possible is it? No. No-one could possibly live life so easily. I don't believe it.

"Of course not," I said to Mello's earlier statement.

I was suddenly lifted up with a hard jerk to my forearm.

"What?"

"Nothing. It was just annoying seeing you sit there."

_That_ made sense. Then again, a lot of what Mello said didn't register in my mind as "sense". Who am I to talk? Even I have been irrational lately.

He let go, pushing me to the side where I teetered for a few seconds before regaining balance. "You don't know how lucky you are to have me change my mind."

With those last words said, Mello left once again. I eyed Matt who lingered behind.

"So what did you do?"

I assumed he had done something. Mello would never have recognized his own mistakes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Matt replied airily, not making eye-contact.

"Mello didn't change his mind on his own."

Matt gazed at me for a second before changing the subject. "So, how'd you sleep last night? I could see you got up early."

Right. I had conveniently forgotten that.

"Honestly?" I shrugged. "Not too well. I woke up earlier than usual and never succeeded in lulling myself back to sleep. And while on the subject; please excuse me. You ended up sleeping on the floor."

Matt scratched his head. "Ah, it don't matter—it wasn't any problem. Even if _you_ didn't manage to sleep well, _I_ did. I'm pretty sure I could sleep anywhere."

Matt looked like he held no grudge, so that should have been the end. Even if that _was_ so, my sick mind was still stuck on the idea that I had to repay him. I'm not going to feel at ease until I do. I have to thank him, not only for letting me sleep in his bed, but for listening to me, for trusting me, and for stopping Mello's relentless supervision. _How would a person make up for that?_

"And I was warm too—thanks for the covers!" Matt laughed even though I couldn't understand the comedic value of his words. Was that funny? That wasn't what I was aiming for when I had given him that blanket. It was supposed to be more of...an action of sincere thanks.

"It's a shame, but we never ended up seeing each other today because of Mello's change in heart," Matt smiled with a shrug. "Too bad, huh? It's kinda different hanging out with someone like you—not bad though. I wouldn't mind doing it again. On a rainy day, or something."

I nodded, wondering about when it might rain next. In my short time with Matt, I couldn't say it was an uncomfortable experience. We didn't really do anything, but I wasn't bored. Just relaxed. It was quiet, and I didn't have to be alone…

Matt nodded too.

"Well, Mello and I were gonna play some games in my room today. I'd invite you, but you two are in some rough waters already, and I don't wanna strain the progress you've already made."

_Progress_? He called what Mello and I had, _progress_? Nothing had changed. Oh well.

Matt waved a hand as he left the common room. I watched intensely as the door swung shut, leaving me to myself again. There was nothing left to look forward to, so sleep was really the only escape left. If I could fall asleep, I wouldn't have to think. I could be oblivious and ignorant to any trouble for a few precious seconds.

* * *

I lied flat on my bed, staring at the speckled ceiling. Why couldn't I force myself to sleep when I wanted to? I started to count the little off-colored flecks above my head, hoping I could be dulled to sleep. I had reached two-thousand seven-hundred sixty-five, when I was interrupted by my door slamming open.

"What is this? There's a _boy_ in the bed!"

I craned my neck to see a girl standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised and mouth unhinged.

"This isn't my room…or is this some sort of freaky service—'cause I'm not into _that_ type of thing. What kind of institution _is_ this? I sure as heck hope I'm wrong…"

I sat up, squinting in the voice's direction. This was a rather unpleasant and unexpected interruption.

"Who are you?" I asked thoughtlessly.

I shouldn't have asked, when I didn't actually care, but it is instinct for me to label whatever leaves an impression; good and bad alike. Though this instinct only started another current with letters and words and sentences that held no significant meaning to me. There was no stopping her now.

"Who am _I_?" The girl pointed to herself and I was able to squint enough to see her bronzed skin and the tight black curls that stopped at her shoulders. "I'm Creole! Well, that's not my _real_ name, but we're not allowed to use them now, are we? But, that's enough about me, how about yourself? Who are you, and why are you in my bedroom?"

She must have taken a wrong turn our something—the girls section was the other direction entirely.

"I'm sorry, but you must have mistaken your directions. This has always been my room. And, so not to ignore your introduction, I am known as Near."

"Near? Hm. You're an interesting fellow. Well, considering that you're not doing anything right now—care to be my guide? I thought I could do it myself, but apparently not…"

Apparently. "I don't know if I can help you…"

"Oh jeez! You're a man _aren't_ you? Start acting chivalrous and take a lost and confused girl to the main office! You've _got_ to know where it is, right?"

Creole grabbed my upper arm, yanking me to my feet. "You're going to show the way now, _aren't_ you?"

Reading her from her actions, I wasn't going to have a say in it anyway. If anything, maybe taking a walk would drain the energy that wont let me grant me the sleep I crave.

"I suppose I am. You can follow me."

* * *

My feet dragged across the floor in a statement of reluctance as I guided Creole through the hallway towards Rogers office. I don't know why, _of all the rooms, _why did she have to walk into _mine_?

I shuffled to a stop in front of the office door. Turning to Creole, I was face to face with her green eyes staring back expectantly.

I motioned towards the office, "Um, here it is."

No response.

"Just knock and go in."

She blinked, but remained quiet. Maybe she wants me to leave—which I have no problem accepting as fact. I started to walk away, but Creole was quick to reign me back in.

"You get him."

_What?_ She was going to have _me_ get him?

"You just have to knock—"

"I want you to stay here with me," Creole interrupted. "Go ahead and knock now."

This personality of hers was baffling—I didn't know what to do but comply. I gave a few hard knocks and waited.

There was a muffled, "Hm?"

"Roger?" I called. "There is a girl here. She seems to be lost."

There was more muffled rustling.

"…C-come in!"

I opened the door and Creole pushed past into the small office. I debated whether to leave or not, but as soon as I met those eyes, I made myself follow. I shut the door behind me, leaning against it to stay as far out of her business as possible.

"I see. You're the new one here, aren't you Creole?" Roger said while adjusting his wire rimmed glasses. "Lost, were you? Then I'm glad to see Near was willing to help."

I wasn't really _willing_…

Creole nodded, curls bouncing up and down without any real direction.

"Yes, he was very gentlemanly. I'm glad to have run into someone so thoughtful as to show me here. Near even said, if he could, he would show me around Wammy's. I'd feel a lot better if he could."

That's a lie. Why is she saying stuff like that?

Roger's eyes sparkled with an old mirth. "Of course! I'm so glad to see you befriending someone after such a short time, Near. Creole's room is at the end of the girls hall and to the right. Please, escort her there once you've finished showing her around."

Creole nodded, taking my hand in hers. "Come on, Near! We're going to have a _bunch_ of fun together—I know it!"

I didn't get a chance to retaliate, respond, or even _breathe_ before as I was forcefully pulled from view of the Wammy householder. _How come I am getting dragged around all the time?_ I've got to say, it is not pleasant. Creole finally showed mercy, coming to a stop in one particularly quiet corridor. She let go, looking again with her expecting eyes. I don't see why. I never agreed to be a tour guide.

"Well, Near…thanks a bunch. You don't _really_ need to show me around; but out of fear that I'll burst into your room again in the middle of the night, perhaps you could show me to where I'm staying?"

_It'd be easier if there was a girl doing this…_

"Sure." What else could I say? 'Figure it out yourself, I'm going to bed?' I'd never be left alone if I didn't do what she asked. At least, that's what she's lead me to believe.

* * *

The hallway with the girls rooms was a fairly new place to me as well. There has never been a reason to visit—so that would make sense. But, the instructions were fairly easy. The last room on the right.

We reached the designated destination and I obediently opened the door to her room. I was ignored as Creole ran and jumped onto her bed. Kicking off her shoes, she sighed and rolled over, looking back at me.

"It's nice, isn't it?" she asked dizzily. "I'm so tired I could sleep forever!"

I stood in the doorway, waiting for anymore commands she might have.

"Good night Near. Shut off the lights on your way out, will ya?"

Creole wadded herself up into her thin blankets. I nodded, doing as she pleased and then leaving to go back to my own room. I've found myself bending to others will's lately. Not just now with Creole, but with Linda, and Matt, and Mello… I've got to stop that.

* * *

**Ugh! Well...this was very rushed and stuff. Kind of like the title...it's boring. And DON'T WORRY about Creole. Most enjoy her character. Trust in me. Reviews are appreciated. I'll respond personally to each one.**

**~Reviews are really appreciated~**

**Might motivate me to finish faster ~_~**


	4. Hotter and Hotter

**Wow...sorry guys. That was a long wait wasn't it? But I got something done! Yay~**

**So~ I hope you like. Yes? Heh heh...more OC**

**(T) for f-bomb at the end. Ooh~ I'm so bad!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Hotter and Hotter**

It's another hot day. I hate heat…I hate it with all my being. It's been making me fairly irritable as well. I thought about skipping class. I decided otherwise because I'm not going to let myself, get in my…way. Now that I think about it, that sounds kind of ridiculous doesn't it? I'm in my _own_ way? Well…I suppose it happens.

The reason I don't like the heat? I hate my clothes sticking to me, I hate that it gives me insomnia, I hate that it makes me intolerant, I hate that it makes me want to destroy anyone who can happily skip down the hall like it isn't a burning torrent of heated _hatred_ cursed upon me and the world… Don't you _see_? It's making me hallucinate feelings and it's been getting worse every day. Hotter and hotter…it's beyond the realm of sanity!

Along with the heat getting under my skin, Creole is being overbearing to top things off. All day she's been asking me over and over to go outside. Much more relentless then Linda, who now seems like an oasis of peace and serenity.

"Hey, Near!" Creole appeared at the doorway of the common room, dispelling my last shred of sanity. I wasn't going to be nice anymore. There was a limit.

I squirmed back into the corner as far as I could. Ok. So I am never really "nice" in the first place and I still want to avoid being an ugly "mean" that might lead to other problems… But I'm not going to put up a show for her either. I'm not going to use my polite declinations. I'll be blunt and to the point. Even the simplest person should be able to get it.

"Come on! Let's go!"

Maybe she spoke with some unknown high frequency set to agitate humans because no voice had ever made me cringe like that before. The dark skinned girl stopped in front of me, leaning over and smiling endearingly.

"Come _on_~! This time it'll be perfect, Near!"

I don't think so. It's much to hot to be anywhere _close _to perfect. In fact, it was the worst. I pushed the hair out of my face, trying to cool my head off a bit.

"Why is it perfect this time?" I asked to simply humor her.

"I've been exploring lately around the grounds -by the way this place it _huge_- and I found a place. It's completely guarded by trees so it's not all that hot…then there's this little river-like thing. I just kidnapped some ice-cream bars and I've already memorized the way there. You can come with me. We'll sit with our feet in the water, eat ice-cream…it'll be great! _Perfect_!"

She was quite ambitious, was she not? But I still didn't plan to leave my dark, cool, corner. Never. Not until the sun burned out.

"No thanks…" I said, not able to resist my fake politeness.

"No!" Creole commanded sternly, uprooting my guard for a moment. She sounded so strict. Like when on of the teachers were scolding someone for misbehaving. I'd never been told off like that before and it made me want to apologize for even saying something to deserve such a response.

"Not today, Near! You're _coming_!"

I struggled a little, but not enough where she would have trouble getting me on my two feet. Creole held a stiff chin, making sure we were eye-to-eye.

"You're going outside, Near. If you don't, you're going to diminish in vitamin D, and get cancer and diabetes and heart disease and _Osteoporosis_! …Maybe only girls can get Osteoporosis. Well, you might get it anyway! I'm not a doctor, so I wouldn't know."

Creole grabbed a hold of my jaw, directing me to look out the window and into the yard. It was so bright and _hot _looking. She let me go and I returned my gaze to her.

"As my dear mémé would say, "Jeunes n'ont croupions avec rien à faire assis dans un siège; sortir et bouger les pieds!" or as in translation, "Young people have nothing to do with rumps sitting in a seat, exit and move your feet!" And if I didn't do that…I had to peel potatoes."

Creole cupped my hands, rubbing small circles in the palm.

"And telling from how soft your hands are, you've never had to do work like that. Peeling potatoes until your blisters bleed…you need tough hands like mine."

Creole clapped, bringing her argument to a close. I don't see how peeling vegetables and soft hands pertained to me going outside, but there was no stopping her- no matter what I physically did… And there was absolutely _no_ fighting against her "logic". If she was willing enough to think it up, I'd bet she'd be willing enough to defend it. The dispute would definitely take much more energy then I'm willing to exert…so me being the push over I am, gave in.

* * *

I couldn't help but wince painfully as I was pushed out the door and into the open mid-morning air. It was unbearable. Even when trying to breathe, it was like swallowing smoke. There were no complaints from Creole though. She was all business at the moment, marching us over the green grass, taking me somewhere beyond the trees. At least it wasn't as hot in the shade as expected. I still didn't like it.

Insert some walking and finally Creole allowed us to stop. It was a small opening, hidden beneath a canopy of trees and surrounded by more trees and shrubbery. There was a clear stream nearby and the temperature was pleasantly cool. Maybe this wasn't _so _bad.

"Go and sit!"

It wasn't by any means a request, more of a order. Creole steered me by my shoulders, driving me strait to the water bank.

"Roll your pants up so they won't get wet and stick your feet in. You'll love it!"

I can't say I wanted to, but I did so anyway. Why? Why not?

The water was the final thing I needed. Feeling numbing cold in contrast to the heat before? I was calm and unbothered by outside matters for the first time in days.

"Here."

I was woken from my empty daze, letting my eyes glide over to where Creole sat beside me. In her slender, bronzed hand she offered to me an ice-cream bar. Just past her I could see the open box with it emptied contents scattered in the grass. I don't know where she could have gotten them on her own…

I took a hold of the frozen treat anyway and Creole remained next to me holding her own. I took a small bite off the corner. Vanilla with a chocolate shell…sweet and cold. Another addition to my state of calm.

There are few times where I can say someone knew what they were talking about. Especially when it came to understanding me, myself. It's like she knew this is what I needed. An escape… And she didn't chatter on like I had expected. I thought she might try to talk or something, but now Creole was a different person. Sitting patiently… waiting for me I guess. So we just sat there.

* * *

"Want me to throw that away for you?"

I looked at the empty stick that had been sitting in my hand for the last few minuets then handed it to her and watched as she shoved it in her back pocket.

"Want another one?" she asked, holding a second one up.

"No. Thank you though."

Creole froze for a second, releasing herself with a sigh.

"Trop mauvaise. Quelqu'un est ici pour nous rendre visite…"

"Excuse me?"

The girl shook her head sending her curls bouncing everywhere. "Nothing… I was mumbling to myself. Anyway, how do you feel about company?"

"What?"

"They must have found their own way. Don't know who it is though…" Creole grunted as she hopped up, shaking off the water on her feet before strolling over towards the trees. "Who's in there? I have ice cream if you come out!"

I could hear a quiet utterance as someone asked, "Ice cream?"

Creole timed it perfectly as she stepped to the side, Matt was flung out of the greenery and to his knees.

"That wasn't _nice_ Mello! They already knew we were there!"

I looked expectantly at where Matt had made his entrance. Mello…was here too?

Soon enough, the little round leaves started to rustle as the other intruder showed himself.

"I thought you said weren't going to be following me anymore." I asked, staring unaffected, into the hateful blue eyes that found me.

"I say _a lot _of things."

Matt was already up as he patted Mello on the back. "Chill out a little, Mello! I'm starting to worry about you! Everyday you're getting more to the borderline of obsession."

_Obsession_. The uncontrollable persistence of an idea or emotion in the mind, sometimes associated with psychiatric disorder…

"Why you so obsessed with me? _Boy I wanna know~! _Lyin' that your sexin' me! _When everybody knows~!"_

Mello and Matt were automatically defused from the fight that was about to break. Both stared at my singing companion -who I suppose they never had the…_pleasure_ to meet.

"Who are _you_?" Mello spat, brow already twitching with annoyance. He's never been the kind to easily accept newcomers. Well, he's never been the kind to accept anyone… Maybe Matt, but sometimes even _he _can't get through during Mello's fits.

Creole wiped a few stray curls from her face and smiled genuinely.

"Je m'appelle _"Creole"_ Pleasure!"

Matt returned with his own half cocked smile.

"Hey, I'm Matt. Nice to meet you too."

Mello wasn't so kind.

"I take no pleasure in meeting you. I actually hate you. Where are you from?"

You would think that such a blunt statement of hatred would be taken worse, but Creole seemed to have overlooked it and smiled still.

"Moi? Oh, I'm from everywhere! Me and my mémé would travel all over the world when she was alive. Unfortunately, she died not long ago...and I was graciously allowed to live here!"

"You're awfully cheerful after _whoever_ dieing. Didn't you like them?"

"_Mémé_. My _granny_." Creole said, enunciating each word as if she were talking to a small child.

Mello didn't seem to like being talked down to and I saw as his hands balled into fists. If she continued like that, things were going to turn bad. I've never heard of Mello hurting a girl…but maybe that's because most girls knew better then to mess with someone as unstable as that particular blonde.

"You see..." Creole continued at her slow pace. "I am _bilingual. _So, sometimes I say funny words that might not make sense. That's because I sometimes speak _French_. Do you know what _French_ is?"

I've seen sarcasm. I've seen teasing. But this wasn't either or. She appeared to be seriously thinking Mello was incapable of understanding. And the blonde was nowhere near a "good mood". Before she had even opened her mouth to give another dose of kindergarten talk, Mello snapped. His fist swung through open air. Creole had once again stepped out of the way before being touched. Mello tried another solid swing that passed through nothing again.

Creole shook her head in disapproval. "Non, non, non! You don't hit girls!"

Mello tried to reach her with his fist again and again she was out of reach.

"Didn't I tell you not to hit girls?"

Mello didn't answer, acting as a silent killer and jumping without warning. Creole dashed around, just outside his grasp. Then, in a few acrobatic movements, the once grounded girl was perched on the thin branch of the trembling aspen above.

"_You_ are a very, very violent person!"

"And _you're_ lucky you're quick!"

"Monsieur Mello~! I'd gladly invite you to have ice cream with Near and I if you'd please not attack me. I can only assume you came because of _him_, for you do not know me and you do not act like you had originally sought to know me. Correct?"

Mello looked nowhere ready to act civil. He stared up at Creole as if she were spitting insults rather then trying to resolve a problem.

"You think I came here just to see _him_?" he shouted. "If I wanted to see Near I wouldn't need _your _help! If I wanted him to get him, I can _get _him on my own!"

I watched, wide eyed, as Mello snapped his head to look at me. This wasn't going to be good. I was going to be taken out of my calm place. The blonde marched at me, arms outstretched. I didn't have a choice. It's not like I can't fight back.

Mello dragged me out of the water, then let me drop at his feet.

"Get up."

I stared up at Mello who was either extremely calm, or silently furious.

"Get up, Near. _Now_."

My eyes drifted to the rest of the company. Matt looked unknowing to the situation and Creole was still watching from her perch. So I was alone, was I?

Mello nudged my in the ribs with a foot.

"Get up."

I sighed and rolled around to get up.

I didn't even get a chance to do things myself, because he had taken the initiative; grabbing me under the arm and hauling me to my feet.

Matt took a step forward. "Mel-"

"Don't follow us." Mello hissed before marching us past to who-knows-where.

I tried to look back to see if they might have decided to intervene anyway. To my displeasure, they were only staring after.

* * *

I tripped over something causing Mello to have to catch me.

"Watch your _dammed_ feet, Near!" he cursed, regaining our quick strides.

I almost succeeded in giving a nod, but he might not have noticed because my head was already bouncing around from our little jog. But hey… because I'm one who likes to look on the bright side of things, I at least got to experience Mello in close counters where I'm not _exactly _being threatened. See? See the silver lining? …Me neither.

I didn't know he had more than one shade of blue in his eyes. I'd always thought it was one solid icy color, but it also had a ring of dark blue around the edges that every now and then would spike out and touch the pupil before jetting back to the edges. It almost looked like the light was fighting against the darkness, and the darkness was slowly gaining ground. Maybe not. It was an interesting thought anyway…

Mello suddenly looked back at me, catching my eyes in his. "What are _you _staring at?"

I drew my attention to the ground, not really sure how to answer. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway… I watched my feet in comparison to Mello's. His strides were long and strong -probably doing most of the work too- while mine were taking a bunch of short, quick and clumsy steps that would slow us down immensely. But I realize that I should have been less concerned with how my feet looked, and more about where they were taking me.

I was dragged through a side door that connected the outside world to the kitchen. Oh, great. He was probably plotting to kill me. It's easy to come to that conclusion when you have a "pissed off" Mello. Maybe he was going to stab me with a kitchen knife? Beat me to death with some sort of blunt object, like a rolling pin or a frying pan? I know. He's going to lock me in the freezer. It would be easy enough to play it off as an accident. I'm sure Matt wouldn't say anything. Creole…well, she might have some trouble. Poor girl. The only reason she's involved was because…well, because she insisted in involving herself in my life. Ah- but no. We moved through the kitchen without the slightest pause. We were going upstairs towards the bedrooms. He still hadn't let go of me and there weren't any given clues to the mystery of what he was planning.

I guess he knew where my room was, because that's exactly where we went. Mello smoothly slipped us both in and shut the door without a sound. A strange thing considering his track record for absurd and unnecessary noise making.

Suddenly there was nothing there to support me, and I dropped to the ground like a broken toy. Mello blocked the doorway, overlooking me in my position. I didn't know what he wanted, so I decided to stay where I was for the moment, using my elbows to prop myself up and wait.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Who said I was going to do anything?"

That was strange. He had nothing? "Well, weren't you?"

"I don't know. Is there something you had in mind?"

I gave myself a little freedom, letting my gaze drift around for a bit. So he just wanted to…do nothing. Good.

"What is with you and lying on the floor? Get up and get on your bed or something!"

I looked back at Mello trying to figure him out once more. He wasn't angry….no. He just looked annoyed. Maybe. I couldn't place it. He was refusing to look at me too. Just staring at a corner of the ceiling. I had to say something.

"Why are we even here then? If you weren't planning to do anything, then why don't you-"

"You want me to _do _something!" Mello snarled, reverting back to his carnivorous tone. "Fine! I'll _do _something!"

I wasn't trying to provoke him. I guess that shows how far I've come to interpreting feelings…

Mello stepped over me, straddling my waist and slamming my shoulders back against the hard floor.

"What do you want me to _do_ Near?" Mello punched the floor beside my head with each stressed word. "Do you want be to _beat_ you? Is that what you want? Is that what I have to _do! _Every single time I come to see you, is it to _hurt_ you? Is _that_ what you think, Near! It that what you _want_?"

I was seriously confused. What he was saying… it didn't make sense. What kind of emotion was this? He was yelling and punching things…but it didn't fit his words. I couldn't understand why he was asking these questions.

I winced as Mello took a fistful of my hair and pulled me upwards. He stopped when I was in his face. He was angry… right? What was this?

"_Fuck_ _you_, Near! Why don't you go and have fun with Matt, huh? You obviously have no problems with _him_ coming to see you!"

"I don't understand. Why are you yelling such strange things?" Oops. I didn't mean to say that out loud.

Mello let go and my head thunked back to the floor. Then he got off, stood up and left while slamming the door behind him.

* * *

**We get it Near. You don't like it when it's hot. You really, really don't like it. ****But now he has a special place he can visit when he thinks it's unbearable! ****And Oh, Creole. Singing strange songs. Oh, so strange. And acrobatic. And stern. And intervening. ****And what's with Mello? Why's he all upset and punching things? Apparently he doesn't like Nears attitude towards Matt. WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT! FIND OUT NEXT CHAPTER!**

**~reviews really appreciated~**

**If I get enough I might wanna work faster! ^-^**


	5. A Touch Of Anger

**If I get enough I might wanna work faster! ^-^**

**Gahh~ this one is finished! If there are any mistakes feel free to point them out. Give your opinion. Have fun! Thank you for reading!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: A Touch Of Anger**

That's not fair. Why does he get to be angry with me? I didn't do a thing. It should be _me_ complaining. _I_ was the victim, not him- yet he had an outburst like it was something _I_ did. It's not fair, and it doesn't make any sense.

I stood up, brushing the spot on my head where it was still sore from Mello's assault. I'm having second thoughts on whether I've made any progress at perceiving others feelings. When it's with Mello, it's one step forward…two steps back. He was angry wasn't he? But why? And maybe it was the fact I was once again being choked by the hot, humid air -leading me to be irrational- but I wasn't going to leave it at that. Not when there wasn't any fault on my part. I _know _it wouldn't do me any good to confront Mello. I _know _and I keep _telling_ myself… But I was going to go after him anyway. I don't even know what I want… So, with no plans on what to do when I see him -because I'm allowing myself to be driven completely on a whim- hopefully the words will come when I need them.

I opened the door, quickly scanning the empty hallway. So he really _did_ leave. That made things more difficult. Now I had to think. _Where is his room? _I know where Matt's room is. That doesn't help. He could have gone somewhere else. But where? I've never had to think about the places Mello might dwell, because I never cared. Not saying I care now. I think. I don't know… Anyway, whatever knowledge I had of him wasn't nearly enough to start making a list of places he might be. His room, which I had no idea where to find. Outside, which was much too vast to search. The classrooms, but he should only be there during class. The common room, but he's only ever there to bother me. The bathroom... The library. And that was it?

Mello is causing me a lot of trouble. I don't even know why I'm doing this. But my insides are uncomfortably hot and twisting and I _want_ to find him. I don't know what it is. I don't want to figure it out! I don't want to _think_. I just want someone to give me the answers for once…

I started walking down the hall. That was my fist step and at least I was moving. I couldn't have stood still much longer. My legs were on their own as I began to wander aimlessly across the warn and tarnished floorboards, wishing luck might do me a favor this time. Ha. If only I believed in luck.

Everyone was outside nowadays. Actually _enjoying _the weather somehow. I wasn't going to yell for him. Mello never would have answered from the looks of the situation anyway. So I continued to wander. Not only physically through the rooms and corridors…but through my mind. Questions kept drifting in, out and around my head, worse then anything before. Slippery. Strange things. Things I would think I thought… but then it was as if I never thought a thing. It was that sort of confusion. It's hard to put into words. Like there were several realities fighting to be first. Take that how you like. It's the only way I can think to put it.

"_Near_?"

Huh. I wasn't expecting to see both so soon.

Matt stood alongside Creole, both of them staring into the empty storage room I just realized I'd been standing in. I tried to breath in, getting a lungful of stale dust. Of course.

"I thought Mello would have-"

"He didn't do anything." I interrupted rapidly just before a long series of coughing. Matt and Creole parted so I could move through and find more breathable air.

"That's why I'm looking for him." I managed to croak while my throat still felt dry and scratchy.

Matt's eyebrows reached upwards.

"What? _Why_?"

Even he knew there was no sense in it. I knew there was no sense in it. Yet, knowing so didn't change my mind. I had to do whatever I was doing.

"I need to see him."

Matt looked unsure of himself. "Oh."

I was unsure too. I think. I don't know. I haven't been thinking clearly. I don't know what I want. Well, _directions_. But it might be better if I didn't get them… no. I want to see him again. I think.

"If you could, do you know where Mello's room is? I don't know where else to look, and can't find it on my own."

Matt still looked uncertain, scratching his head. My insides were hot again. They were hot and squirming and I couldn't wait.

"Are you going to tell me or _not?_"

"Uh…sure. He's, um… his room is only about four doors down from yours. Across the hall."

I was quick to leave Matt and Creole to themselves. I was going to talk to Mello. I had to talk to him. If I didn't…the pressure inside me…I don't know what to do with it. And as I walked to his room, it kept building. The pressure. But I had to see him. It wasn't fair. What was his problem? I didn't do anything! The steps were my enemy. I stomped as hard as I could up each one. Time was too slow. I had to speed up. My room was past now. I counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Across the hall.

I stared at the door in front of me, suddenly deflated of the hot pressure. I didn't want this. Why was I doing this? Mello would be on the other side. And he wouldn't be happy. I shouldn't do this. No. I would regret it if I did.

I leaned over and pressed my ear against the door. I couldn't hear anything. Maybe he wasn't in there. There was the flutter of papers being shifted. I heard that, and there was one last bit of heat. Just enough to get me to open the door.

* * *

I peered into the darkened room. It was a mess. The bed had the covers all shoved against the wall, the majority of the bed covered with books and papers and wrappers. The same for his floor. Books, papers and wrappers. The top of his dresser. Books, papers and wrappers. They say the state of ones room can show the state of ones mind… I could only imagine.

"Who is it?" Mello growled, hunched over a desk full of more papers and books. It was a sort of pattern for him it seemed.

I stepped in, shutting the door behind me. I couldn't speak. Not yet. The words weren't there. The questions didn't matter like I thought they did. Now that the pressure was gone, I was left empty and thoughtless.

"What do you wa-" Mello cut himself short. We made eye contact and he turned back away.

"What are you doing here…"

I didn't know. This is about the most ridiculous thing I've ever done. Walked right into the lion's den. I watched as a handful of loose-leaf sheets were crumpled mercilessly in the lion's fist. If I left right now, maybe we could both forget about everything. I _said_ that to myself…I didn't _listen._

I deserve any mockery you have. I just stood there like a broken idiot. All I had wanted to say was stilled; my questions all of a sudden were not words anymore; the rush of heat that had gotten me where I was, was smothered out into a harmless fizzle. Why had I wanted to see him? Because he yelled at me… But he yells at me all the time. This time he was different. _How? _I don't know…

Mello leaned back into his chair, still facing the other direction. I wish I could have seen his face.

There was a long, hissing sigh before he asked, "What do you _want, _Near?"

I could feel a touch of the heat from before. Why does he keep asking me what I _want_? I don't know what I want!

"What do _you_ want?"

Mello finally tilted his head in my direction. "Get out."

I can't.

"Get _out, _Near!"

I can't.

Mello stood up, knocking his chair over in the process.

"Get the _fuck _out of my room, Near! _What_ do you _want_?"

"I want to know what your problem is."

"I don't have a problem! Get _out!_"

"You obviously _do _have a problem! I didn't do _anything _to you."

"Get out of my _room, _Near!"

"What did I _do? _Tell me. I don't know how else to stop it, unless you tell me what I'm doing that's so wrong..."

Mello's eyes were unmoving. But he didn't say a thing. I guess his last words still stood.

"Why are you mad at me?"

"You won't get out of my room."

"Why were you mad when I asked what you were doing?"

"Because you think you know everything!"

"I never said that…"

"You didn't have to! I could see it with my own eyes! You were just laying there like you just _knew _I was up to no good. You didn't even try to get up, like you thought I would just force you back down! You arrogant punk! You think you're better than me!"

"I don't."

"Yes you do! With anybody else -_with_ _Matt- _you can be weak. You can show something other than the indifference you always have with me! You were with him for half a day- then you were close enough to spend the night with him? It's only when I have you in my hands, can I actually tell you have a pulse. That you're actually a living person. Because I'm not good enough! Because you don't take me seriously!"

"I'm not close to Matt or anyone else. I was tired… That's a normal function of the living. If it bothers you, it was _you_ who said for me to go with him."

Now it was me trying to calm the lion. I didn't have any desire to continue. I just wanted peace.

"Fucking _get out _of my room!"

Mello stepped of his chair and walked up to me. I was expecting him to grab me again, but he only leaned pass me to try and open the door. I leaned my weight back, so I could stop him. Mello probably could have forced it open anyway, but I think the attempt itself made him draw back.

"Better beware, Near. I might just _do_ something bad."

His expression was deadpan, but his voice was underplayed with a steely threat.

"You haven't done so yet. Leading me to believe you never planned to."

"Don't test me. You don't know _anything _about me and what I plan to do."

"Back in my room. You were yelling like you were mad at me. But you didn't hit me, even in your anger. Why?"

Mello knew how to punch. I didn't even see it coming. And it hurt a lot. He got me in my lower jaw, also making me bite the inside of my cheek. The force sent me to the floor and I was to…stunned, to even think. I've never been punched. It hurts. My jaw. My cheek. My back from hitting the wall on my way down. My knees and elbows. It hurt a lot. A _lot._

I tried to see what Mello was feeling. Was he angry? No. Deadpan. His expression was the same. They why did he hit me?

"What's with the big eyes, Near? Didn't expect that?" he asked monotonous.

No. I didn't. But I couldn't say that. So I was quiet. Waiting for whatever might happen next. Mello crouched down, reminding me of a predator. I _was_ in the lion's den after all. It was foolish to think I could aggravate a beast and then expect him to calm down at my will. I should have expected everything but. Mello continued to glare passively.

"How did it feel, Near? You don't know everything you claim to know."

It isn't fair. I can't understand why he's doing this. His face is as if he doesn't care. Is he mad? Is he teasing? I looked everywhere. It was a solid defense. My jaw still hurts. The pain is spreading into my tongue too.

"Why did you do that?" I had to ask.

Mello straitened back up.

"Why, the hell do you think? Get out of my room. Now."

This time I was going to obey him. I stood up, still a little shaky. I didn't like that he was just watching me. He didn't smirk or scowl or frown. Dead eyes that revealed nothing. I needed to know what he was feeling. Why was he like this all of a sudden? I opened the door and watched him forget about me, going over to put his chair back up and gather the scattered papers. Did he even care? I waited in the doorway, hoping he might reveal something. Nothing? He just kept picking things up… So I left.

* * *

"Aw~ it's so _cold_ outside!"

"I _know_! I felt perfect only a few days ago!"

"Where did my sun go?"

I stared into the complaining crowd of kids whom were invading my area. Can't they tell I do not wish to know about their tedious protests?

One of the girls looked at me expectantly.

"Don't you think so too, Near? Isn't it the worst?"

Why do they insist on including me? I was about ready to destroy my rendition of the Roman Coliseum made of little colorful blocks, and leave while they were still confused!

While it was _warm_, the common room was _my_ grounds. Rarely did people venture inside. But once it became a _little_ chilly, they all have come herding inside.

"I would say a warm day and a cold day each have their own good qualities." I hate the heat, but it keeps the masses away. I like the cold, but it draws the masses in. I lose either way. But putting it as I did before makes it more appealing to everyone else.

The girl nodded agreeably. "Yeah! They do don't they? Ha ha, you're so smart, Near!"

They went back to talking to themselves and I went back to working on the arena section. Well…I _tried _to get back to the arena section. I couldn't concentrate with the quiet roar of children talking. Their little snippets of conversation would invade my brain and I would end up analyzing everything against my will.

"-I'm _so _sorry! I didn't-"

There was an enunciation on 'so' without the fluctuating pattern to the sorry. So no sarcasm. It sounded sincere.

"-Want to know something else?-"

The tone of the rising infliction left the 'I have something even better' impression. If I had to guess, they were gossiping. Typical.

"-_Shit_! No way~! Really?-"

Hm? That kind of exclamation. A curse… yet his tone was… awe? Not anger. Awe?

"-_Hell_ _yes_! Isn't that-"

And excitement? Why were words considered taboo, being used so lightly? Since when was this a part of language and expression?

I looked over to see the boys talking and laughing over a game of cards.

"Four of a Kind! Suck on _that_!" one gloated, slapping his hand down.

Another tilted his head to get a better look.

"Damn it, Kael! You did it _again_? Are you sure you're not cheating?"

"Of course he is! Five times in a row, that's unreal!" another spoke up.

The winner tapped his nose. "Shaddup! You're just jealous 'cause I got game!"

The group laughed and went on with their cards. That was it. They so easily said words of scorn as if they were everyday things…

"Mon ami, Near!"

It looked like I wasn't going to finish…

Creole smiled with a tilt of her head as she stood overhead. If only that was _just_ a smile. No. She wanted something.

"Creole…"

"Near~?"

"Is there something you want?"

"There is. Can I take a minute of your time?"

"_Just_ a minute?"

"Just _come on._"

Creole waited quietly as I got off the floor. Then she played the leader, taking my sleeve and pulling me to wherever she wanted me to go. Certainly, nobody was stopping me _now. _Not when I wouldn't have minded being diverted away from any strange plans Creole might have in storage. No. Must not bother him when that would be his escape. But what's the use complaining anyway?

"Do you know the way to the library?"

I glanced at the surrounding area. We were somewhere in the far right corridors. The library was front and center.

"Keep moving forward and at the next big turn, turn."

"To everything~ _Turn_~ _Turn_~ _Turn_. There is a season~ _Turn_~ _Turn_~ _Turn_…"

I listened lamely as her curious song shifted to a hum. What was in the library? At least we weren't going outside. Not that I think I would have minded as much. It was likely to be vacant and a comfortably cool temperature. I'm…_pleased _that winter is coming. The snow is nice. It's one of the-

"By the way, we're going to be studying with a few kids. Nothing much. But I heard that you were the top student? And that got me thinking how much help you could help!"

Help? Who am I helping?

"W-what do you mean?"

"Bonté divine! Everything will be _fine. _Let's hurry up!"

* * *

**So~ Near was angry... But as of right now he doesn't really seem to understand that fact.**

**Mello is obviously angry...but why?**

**Things~ to think about!**

**~reviews really appreciated~**


	6. Study Group

**Mmm~ I had to re-write this because my computer crashed! Sorry... it took a while. Oh~ thank you for waiting!**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Study Group**

"This is it!"

Creole smiled with clean white teeth, pushing into the library. In the far corner, three heads sat up in attention to our presence. Linda, Matt, and another of Linda's friends from the look of it. _This_ was the study group she'd formulated? If I am not misled, Matt does well off on his own concerning grades. Linda does fair enough. The other I'm sure does not need help either. Which leads me to wonder, why would they agree to come if they can pass on their own?

Who am I to talk though?

"I'm sure they are all very capable… I know everyone here has high ranked scores." If I expressed their ability out loud- perhaps Creole did not know... Maybe she would find my being there unnecessary. Maybe I'd be allowed my freedom.

"Non, non, non. We're already here! Let's have some fun!"

I think I knew things would turn out this way. Creole acted as a host, sitting me down next to an abnormally quiet Linda. Not that I minded her silence. It was a welcomed anomaly in fact.

"Anyone want some thinking snacks? I kidnapped some jellybeans."

A colorful bag was placed at the middle of the table as Creole sat herself down in the free chair between Matt and I.

Matt leaned forward, eyeing the bag in a curious fashion. He picked up a corner, looking at the label.

He set it back down. "You know, Dan and Fargo were having a fight over jellybeans today. Dan's bag was missing and he blamed Fargo for stealing it."

"Oh, yeah?"

It was more of a response for the sake of a response and not actual curiosity. Creole leaned across the table, pulling the bag over and viciously tearing the plastic apart. Tens of the bean-shaped candies spilled out without anything to support them. Individually picking out any black ones, Creole popped them into her mouth and leaned back in her seat. No one joined her. Myself, because I don't believe that _snacking_ is an efficient way to help in studying. The others had their own personal reasons, I'm led to believe.

The other girl, whose name I knew not, leaned over, whispering into Linda's ear.

Linda was quick to shake her head. "No! She'd never do that!"

Creole faced them with wide eyes. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"N-n-nothing," Linda replied, rather unconvincingly.

A green jellybean wobbled across the tabletop and stopped, teetering on the edge for a moment, then fell to my lap. I looked back at the darker skinned individual. Then at the group around me. Nothing at all would have convince me that this was any sort of group. It was more likely a random assortment of people forced to sit together.

"We are here for a reason?" I reminded.

"Yes!" Creole swiped the candy bag off the table, stashing it somewhere unseen. "We're studying for the next test coming up!"

Matt, who had returned to the table, dropped down five volumes of history. "Take your pick."

Before anyone made a move, Creole had got up and passed everything out on her own. Might as well take this time to my advantage. Flipping to the contents page, I read everything that would be that order of introduction. History is a vast topic, so I find it is easier if I first have a decent base to build on. Review what I already know. Predict what will be covered. This is where the beginnings of my web of thought are. Having to make transparent connections and lace them up tight so I will never forget. It is the only thing that is really dependable when it comes to thought for me. My logical connections all tied together and connected throughout my consciousness. If one ever ruptured or was cut without preparation… well, I can only conclude everything would unravel.

This _"study group" _was a lot less interactive then I had first believed. Not a word was exchanged after the books were laid down and everyone was quiet and focused. Well, almost. Linda had been reading the same page for the past ten minutes, looking red in the face. The other girl was turning pages much too fast to absorb anything. Matt had taken his game out and Creole was eating more jellybeans. The whole point of a study group seemed forgotten now. Oh well.

The page I was on mentioned the man, "Ts'ai Lun". Nothing too specific. He apparently invented paper. But that isn't enough. I'd have to go back into that history and make more connections.

Without making contact with anyone, I stood up to search for any particular book that might help. I drifted around towards the back where I knew the older, larger volumes were kept. The age was definitely conceivable by the senses. Thick dust coat on most everything and the sent of must lingering in the air. Children rarely ventured back here.

"What'cha doing?"

Matt had followed me, finally speaking up.

"I want a more in depth idea of a Ts'ai Lun. I can't use such a meager sentence that mentions the invention of paper and moves on. I can't do anything with that."

I rubbed away the dust on a title, putting it back when I saw it wouldn't be any use. Matt had raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you concerned about something so small? It's not that important."

I continued to search, not able to face him directly. "I need to make a connection. That one fact isn't enough. It will disappear…"

Matt leaned back against a bookshelf. "Whatever you say. Can't say I understand, but that gives me even less of a reason to interfere."

It was only quiet for a moment before the boy started up again.

"So, anything else going on?"

"I do things one at a time," I replied. "Right now all that is going on is my trying to find the correct book."

"Sorry, sorry. I see."

Another brief pause before he continued.

"Looks like it's going to snow. I bet-"

"Matt. What are you doing here?" I asked, looking him in the eye.

Matt raised both eyebrows this time. "Am I bothering you that much?"

"No. I mean, what are you doing in a study group? You don't care about studying…"

His head tilted as if thinking. I know he didn't need to… I guess it was for effect.

"Creole asked me to. Nothing much."

"That is it? Is it because you like her?"

Matt's face scrunched up. "What do you mean? Sure I do. I mean, I don't hang out with people I _don't_ like. Well, I do... but only when I have to."

It made sense. "What does it mean when you say you like someone then?"

He frowned. I must have asked a strange question. "Never mind-"

"Depends on who you're asking."

"I was asking you."

Matt crossed his arms across his chest. "Why do you want to know anyway?"

"If you don't want to answer, then don't."

I began to look for good titles again. It was just a simple curiosity, that's all. I don't know why I was wasting my time asking such things…I just wanted to know.

"What does it mean when I like someone? It means that I want to be around them. And when I'm around them, it's good. Those are my thoughts anyway."

Oh. So that's it? Someone you want to be around. Someone who makes you "feel" different. Well, I don't have any of that. I have a ways to go then- But what am I thinking about anyway? Why is it starting to sound like I want this? Feelings. Do I want them? I don't know.

Matt leaned back on a bookshelf, closing his eyes and I went to searching through titles once again.

"Well…you could make your _connections _by using the evolution of paper. First using different things like tree bark and hemp for materials…" he murmured quietly, almost to himself. "Then make another connection to Xuan paper made in Jing County, Anhui, which is probably the best-known paper from the time… It's mainly used in Chinese painting and calligraphy…"

I looked to Matt who had opened his eyes again, looking at me.

"And then you can connect calligraphy to whatever else…right?"

I straitened back up not needing a volume any longer. The ties were made.

"You know a lot."

Matt laughed, shaking his head. "Not really. I was forced to do some extensive writing as a punishment a while ago. That just happened to be the topic…"

Still. To readily hold the facts… I didn't expect that from him. Not that I knew him well enough before to create a valuable conjecture. This was something new. Not bad. Interesting. Very.

Well, there was no reason to be there anymore. My objective was resolved.

I looked over at Matt who was ever so keenly staring out the window. I followed his gaze, curious to see what he was seeing. There was a cluster of kids doing something I didn't really care about… I guess Matt did. He leaned forward with eyes widened.

"No…"

Matt stood upright, quickly walking then running out of the library. I looked back out the window, hoping to see what he saw. Nothing that interesting. Just a group of kids.

"Near?"

I turned to see Creole was standing their waiting.

"Near, what happened?"

"I don't know." It was something outside. Matt left because of something outside.

Creole stared after to where Matt had left. "Do you know where he was going?"

"Not really." Maybe outside.

Creole nodded. "Alright."

I followed her back to the study table with the idea that we were going to continue studying.

"Linda. Molly. Je suis désolé, Near and I have to leave you."

There was already her hand around mine before I could question it. I was lead out of the library, not to my accord, and pulled through the hallways. Cutting out the trip, she ended up dragging me to her room. Leaving me at the door, she went over to the closet and opened it up. A hooded sweatshirt was tossed at me as she was already putting one on herself.

"It'll be cold out there."

While pulling my arms into the long sleeves, my eyes were drawn to the only unordinary spot- the open closet. Inside were many…things. Things that didn't really belong. Candy for the most part. But also clothes, jewelry, a folding chair, books, a jump rope, magazines, games, matches. And that is only scratching the surface. Very organized and very odd.

Creole had shut the door and began walking me again.

"Is all that stuff yours?"

"Oubliez ça... Never mind. Let's hurry."

* * *

The cool air walking outside was the only thing nice about the situation. The same mesh of kids from earlier was still there. Chanting and hollering in a mess of noise I could not pick apart. Bodies condensed together looking like one, big, multi-colored mass made up of winterwear. The hand holding my sleeve guided me even further towards it, the noise growing.

Right at the outer part of the ring- a hand was on my shoulder. Matt stood there in his long sleeves too. He said something, but nothing came out. Or maybe something did and was only swept away under the cover of other loud voices. I could feel Creole move and she was speaking back. I do not understand how they did it. By now the noise had made itself like earmuffs for me, muffling the sounds and making them a whole one murmur. Matt looked over the crowd, something he could do being taller than me, then got that same look he had in the library. Only this time it ended with panic.

We both followed Matt as he quickly pushed through the group to where the center opened up around two boys. Oh yes, I did know them. There was Dive, bloodied and bruised, with Mello still on top and swinging his fists.

"God _dammit!_ What the hell's your problem these days?"

That time I heard Matt's voice clear above the others as he grabbed Mello's wrists and wrenched him off the other boy's body. Half the group erupted in more noise and the others rushed forward like a rescue team, picking Dive up and trying to get him back to the haven of Wammy's walls. Mello still bucked in protest, trying to get free.

"Fuck you, Matt! Let me go!"

"You're going to get kicked out if you keep _doing _this!"

"I don't fucking care!" Mello got one arm free, his elbow then whacking Matt in the collarbone. He was phased a moment, but Matt still had control, pinning Mello facedown.

"Let's calm down, alright! What's your problem?"

Mello was suddenly filled with more energy, making Matt fight to keep him down.

Mello turned his head to the side and spat, "_That's_ my problem!"

"What? Dive?"

"No! That _question! _I don't have a problem! Stop. Asking!"

Creole had shooed away the rest of the kids and it was only the four of us. That question. What question? His problem…was a question? Oh. Maybe it was something like annoyance. Was that it? Was he annoyed by it? So much that he had beat Dive over it? Maybe he asked it a lot. Maybe he was teasing him about it. Maybe. It still does not make sense to me either way. It's something that I do not understand.

Mello turned his head in out direction. His face was flushed with anger and eyes searching for a target. They stopped, staring directly at me. The next response was not one I was expecting. His body went limp, eyes grew dull, head turned away.

"Matt. You can let me go. I don't even care anymore."

He seemed sincere enough. Matt let him go.

I could hear him breathing as he stood up and looked at me again. From where I was, I couldn't tell about the color of his eyes. They seemed only the same color from a distance. I've always seen them from this distance. Only now that I know if I were nearer I could see more than just blue…do I care to move closer. But there was no opportunity. Mello silently walked past without a word.

Matt got off his knees and to his feet, watching as Mello went back into Wammys.

"Matt?" The question had been bothering me since it came up again. "What _is _his problem? I do not understand."

Matt didn't look at me when he answered, "I don't know."

* * *

**More to come! I haven't dropped this story yet!**

**~Reviews are really appreciated~**


	7. Cooling Down

**Holy-ba-gezzus! Is this another chapeter- the day after the last update? Yes. Yes it is.**

**I was crusing. I did some stuff. Got it done. POST IT! If there are any grammical mistakes...it is because I was so excited to publish I didn't look it all over. Thanks for the reviews so far! This is my most reviwed story after all!**

**But you sneaky people who watch and fave without a review...I be keeping an eye on you. Why am I not good enough to review for? Huh?**

**Don't blame me if I lose motivation...**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Cooling Down**

Mello did end up being punished over what he did. For this whole week, he's been confined to his room. And considering how bad Dive had looked after tussling with him, strangely there wasn't much damage. A lot of bruising and a broken nose… And there were many speculations floating around about what had started the fight. None of them were right. I say this, because none of them mentioned the question. None of them knew, yet they all spread around word as if they were in the fight themselves. No. I do not think they know anything. They know nothing at all.

Either way, there was no stopping them. The only reason I'm even thinking about this is because it's all anyone is ever speaking about nowadays. With the cold weather, I have many more chances to hear the children talk. Three times out of four it is about Mello and Dive. I suppose that's all there is for a topic considering how the long days of harsh wind kept them all inside. The common room was always full. I haven't been there for days. Mostly, I'm in my room with the window open, playing with the toy solders that I had kept for myself.

"Somnolent?" Creole asked, walking in without warning.

I picked my head off the windowsill and watched as she walked and sat on the bed.

"What?"

She was in no rush to answer, leaning back on her hands and swinging her legs.

"Jus' wondering if you were tired or something… I don't see you much."

I turned my seat around so I wouldn't need to keep looking over my shoulder. "I'm always tired. Did you need to see me?"

She didn't answer again, twirling a finger around in one of her curls.

"No. I only wanted to talk because we can. Because when you're friends with someone, you don't need a reason to talk."

Hm. Did she mean me?

Creole looked directly at me, smiling as if my face looked funny. It might have. Without my making it- it had moved on its own. My face. It scrunched up. Which didn't make sense at all. Maybe I really was a puppet with no control over myself.

"You look confused."

What? "I look confused?"

She nodded, face still alive with a grin. "And now even more so. Was it something I said?"

Yes. I slid the window shut, no longer desiring the cold. Well…that's not it, really. But when I had thought that it might be too cold, I moved without consulting the rest of me. Creole was waiting for an answer.

"Yes." I sat back down.

She nodded, this time, rolling over to be completely on my bed.

"Which part?"

She sure was allowing herself to get comfortable.

"You think you're my friend?" That was my initial…_confusion._

Creole rolled around again and stopped in her back. What is with all this movement? Did she suffer from some sort of restless body syndrome? No, I do not believe that is an official syndrome- but that you can understand the picture I am forming. Much movement.

"I know you are my friend. The question is if I am your friend."

"What?"

Creole sat back up, lightly slapping her forehead.

"Excusez-moi. I meant to say it like, I know I am your friend- the question is if you are mine."

"So you want to be around me and you like to be around me- so we're friends?" That is how Matt had put it, right? You want to and like to. Right?

Creole did a laugh, raising an eyebrow. "I guess that is one way to put it?"

Oh. Well. "What then?"

Creole stood up and walked across the room. "Hm?"

"What then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Am…I supposed to do anything?"

She laughed again, this time walking right up to me. "Nothing different than you've already been doing. But- I do have a request."

I was pulled to my feet without much resistance.

"Near, would you please come talk with me today? I've been so _bored…_ there is nothing to do."

"Yes." I didn't mean to say it. It just happened. I've lost control of my body. Or I've one cruel puppet master who let me live my life, thinking I might actually might be human.

Creole smiled though.

"Good! Because you were coming with me anyways. You can't stay up here your whole life, it's unhealthy!"

* * *

Her closet was closed this time as I sat in the one-bed room. She must have noticed my attraction to it, because Creole looked too.

"Curious about something in there, Near?"

"Yes."

"I see." She turned to looked back at me with burning green eyes. Not really an anger- but more of a question. _Do you think less of me? _It was gone as soon as another smile came up.

"And I am curious about you too, Near. Can't say we know much about each other. So to start- how did you end up here?"

I didn't know how to respond.

"Oh! Never mind that! I forgot about the confidential stuff…. I can't even know your real name." She played with the hem of her shirt. "I guess I'm not used to this place yet. Désolé."

"I have a question."

Creole's head bounced upright. "Yes?"

"Are you friends with Matt?"

"I'd like to think."

"Have you spoken with him?"

Creole nodded. "Yes, I have. Why?"

"How is Mello?"

"Mello?" There was a strange expression on her face now. "I think he was doing fine. Why?"

Why? I don't know. It just came up. Again… I hope this is just a phase. Accidentally saying things that don't make sense is not normal. I think. Though I don't have much experience with being normal.

"I don't know. I've been saying and doing strange things recently… just ignore it."

"Non, non, non. This is interesting. What's been happening?"

I had her complete attention by the looks of it.

"I've been doing things that I don't mean to and have no reason to do," I said without really wanting to. "Like now."

Creole had taken up a thoughtful position, crossing her legs with a hand on her chin, nodding slowly.

"I see. Continue."

The thing is- I didn't want to. My business did not require her to know anything.

"I'm just doing things. I can't be what I was, because something wont let me anymore. I have no will. Or maybe I have a separate will. I don't know. Recently there are so many things I don't know. And here I go, saying things again."

Creole was nodding more and more.

"I see. Yes. And how does that make you feel?"

Suddenly I could feel my heart jump. Feel? Was I feeling? No… Not I. that sort of defining characteristic is not capable for me. I was born without.

"Nothing."

"Then, why does it bother you?"

"I'm…" At a loss for words. "I just…don't know."

Creole nodded again.

"I see."

She patted her lap with a lopsided smile.

"I see that I have asked a lot of questions. If you'd like…I can answer your question as well."

I could see that question again in her expression. _Do you think less of me?_

"No questions." Whether or not I freely expressed my own business, she could keep hers if she felt the need.

Creole smiled, stretching in place.

"_Well, _this was nice! I got around a bit. You got around a bit. We got some time to talk. And I feel better for it! Don't you?"

I don't know. But now it seems like a good idea for a walk.

"I have somewhere to go."

Creole directed an arm towards the door.

"Qui vous en empêche? Go ahead, and thank you for the visit!"

* * *

I headed through the drafty hallways towards my room once again. I will not take back the earlier said statements implying that I like the cold air. So, inside it was not a problem because it was cool and dry. If I was going to go outside, it would be wet though. And the combination of cold and wet is too much for a body I suppose. I'd like to avoid the weakened immune system and eventual sickness if possible. I still have that sweatshirt from Creole. I can wear it… maybe afterwards I could return it. Never realized I had it for so long a time.

I opened my door and it was still where I had left it. A light blue draped over the back of my desk chair. I put it on for the second time in my life, zipping it about halfway. I didn't have anything else though. No hat or gloves or scarf or boots. Shoes. I at least needed to have shoes. I knew from my last experience going outside on my own- wet feet are not pleasant.

My closet was not as full as Creole's had been. Nearly bare because of the dresser. Neatly lined up in the corner, were the shoes that I never really wore. They were still white, still knotted, and still uncomfortable, as I put them on. They also felt a size too small. I am a growing boy after all… though it may have been stunted a little.

I tested how walking would turn out, taking a few steps around in a circle. It won't be comfortable, but I might stay dry.

I shut my door quietly, going back down the halls and towards the kitchen. I'd already decided to where I was going. I knew no one would be there at this time of day, so I wasn't questioned as I slipped out the side door and into the cold, cold, outside air. Not the calm cold where you could see your own breath. A cold that whipped you in the face as the wind stirred around in all directions. Not that I minded.

It was all noise while still out in the open yard. Extra motivation to head towards the trees and out of sight. I didn't look back to Wammys, mesmerized by the trees shaking and watching them thrash around. The spot in the trees was over there.

Under the cover of the pines and other vegetation, it was almost as if the sound was turned off. As I walked in tight shoes to the small clearing of trees. It was as if the wind was outside. A strange thing to say because I was already outside.

I didn't go to sit next to the water this time. Sitting at the base of another tree, simply absorbing the cold. The cold always brought a nice calm. And I sat there without a care to what time it was. I hope it snows.

* * *

There was a tugging at my front that woke me from sleep. I didn't open my eyes though. I was too busy wondering about when I went to sleep. I didn't remember falling asleep. The tugging continued and my ears opened up to the sound of zipping. I didn't want to open my eyes. I wanted to forget about it and continue to rest. But, without my permission, my eyes opened anyway.

"You know, there is no point in wearing this if you don't zip it. I thought that was common sense."

"Yes, but I'm not all that common. I'm extraordinary. In the unusually strange sense."

Mello drew back his hands, looking unimpressed. Hair was plastered to his face at some parts, the rest hung heavily, dripping wet. Hm. Listening carefully, I could catch the hushed sound of rain. Mello was crouched down, arms resting on his knees while looking away. Strange.

"What are you doing?"

Mello's eyes were back to me. "I'm not doing anything. What are you doing?"

"Aren't you supposed to be stuck in your room?"

"Yes. I climbed out the window."

I really didn't know what to say. I started to say things anyway. "Why'd you come here?"

"I saw you go this way."

"Are you mad at me?" I wouldn't dare ask again if he was planning to do anything. I knew where that road led.

Mello rolled his eyes and sighed. "I don't think so. And if I was, I shouldn't be looking for someone to fight with. I'm already in trouble with Roger."

I'm having a conversation- but I'm asking all the wrong questions. I don't want to say what I'm saying- I want to be able to have some sort of thought about it first.

"Aren't you cold?" No. I want to ask about the fight. I want to ask why. But before I can, I'm already saying something else.

"Aren't you?"

"But you're wet."

"And you've been out here longer than me."

What are we doing? Talking about this? I clenched my hands, realizing that I was in fact, quite numb. I pulled them into my sleeves, balling them up in the fabric. Mello had been watching closely and raised an eyebrow.

"How long has it been?"

"I watched you walk out here a couple hours ago. I decided to check on you when it started raining."

I see. So I did fall asleep. Without even knowing it. I usually know those kinds of things. I guess today is not my day. I found myself staring back into his eyes as Mello went back to looking to the side. I could see the darkness again. Creeping near the edges, trying to break through. Something I never paid attention to before, but I was finding myself willing to see it whenever I might.

Mello stood up without warning and looked back down at me. A few stray drops slid down his ruddy, wind-beaten face.

"You're even more pale than usual- if that's even possible. Get up. You're going back inside before you die and I'm accused of something I didn't do."

I would have stood. I've spent more than enough time outside, it was raining, and it's probably already set for me to get sick. I knew all these things and I knew that I should be getting up. But I didn't. Not that I couldn't. I could have. I just…didn't. After waiting a while, I expected Mello to shrug it off and leave. That's why it was strange to see his hand come down in front of me.

"I'm not asking, Near. Get up."

It's as if I were waiting for that moment. And I reached up, without thinking again. Both my hands fit into his and I was going to pull myself up. But I didn't. Because I was surprised. I have never liked heat. Ever. Yet, right now, the feeling as my frozen hands thawed in his… I didn't let go. I didn't try to stand. I just sat there holding his hand. Even more, I craved to put my hands up his sleeves, knowing more warmth would be waiting.

"Get up."

Mello took his other hand and helped haul me to my feet. Frozen feet in frozen shoes felt even worse. I didn't make a face though. And Mello let go to start to start walking ahead. I was not looking forward to the trip. And now I was left all to myself again. All to my cold self. But I could not leave myself there. I took a few steps and my feet hurt. So I had to stop.

Mello looked back, not quite gone. "What are you doing?"

"I don't like my shoes."

"Can't you last back to the building at least?"

I wish he would warm the rest of me up too. "Yes. I will. You don't have to wait for me."

I waited for him to move. Hhe did. Right towards me. And almost as if I had been faking it, my feet didn't hurt so much as he put his arm under mine and starting to walk me back to Wammys.

Once out of the trees, it wasn't just the sound of rain. It was actual rain, coming down in sheets over us as we leaned into the wind on our way across the yard. Mello was at my arm though. Doing most of the work. All I accomplished was to stay upright and open the door once we got there.

Inside, it was a relief of warmth. I could feel a spot on the back of my head, wet and dripping down my back. I've found that I do not enjoy being wet. Mello had let go of me again.

"I have to go back the way I came. I can't be caught out in the halls right now."

"No need. No one will be in the halls right now."

Mello seemed reluctant to trust me. His hand had paused at the door though.

"I am not saying there is zero chance someone will be out. But most likely, they are all playing somewhere in the rooms. I think you'll be safe for the short trip."

Mello must not have wanted to go back out, because it didn't take any further convincing than that. He shoved his hands into soggy pockets.

"You lead the way then."

I had no problems with that. But before that- I leaned over, taking off the squelchy shoes. It felt better to have my feet free- slippery or not. So I held them in one hand, the other hand held out encase I slid and needed to catch something. We went from the plastic tiled kitchen into the wooded hallways. From deep inside children could be heard, but as I had said- none were seen. I kept a hand to the wall as I moved forward, hearing Mello's breath and shoes behind me the entire time.

We had made it up the stairs and were on our way to his room just a little past mine. Suddenly there was a disturbance downstairs and voices were much clearer.

"I thought you were sure," Mello growled.

"I said it was most likely."

I had been grabbed again, dragged into my room and the door thrown shut.

"I can't afford for it to be most likely," Mello let go again, sliding down the door to the floor. "I'm staying in here until there is no chance to run into anyone."

I wasn't going to make him leave. I'm sure I couldn't even if I tried. But I've gotten used to having uninvited guests. Well…as used to as I possibly could. Considering that fact that they were never invited. Mello was not here for me though. He was here because he had to be.

The trickle down my back caught my attention again. I did not like it. Not at all. First I had to get something dry to change into. I left Mello to sit on the floor as I went to the dresser. New shirt. New pants. I set them, still folded, on the bed. Then I unzipped the sweatshirt, dropping it in the hamper. The room seemed two times cooler on my exposed arms, making me anxious for dry clothes. The top I was wearing stuck to me in an unpleasent way, and my fingers still felt paralyzed as I fumbled with the buttons. Finally that was done and I dropped it in the hamper as well. Now it was even colder. I put my new shirt on and buttoned it- feeling better already. Next, I pulled my pants off. I'd have to get them washed and dried soon or they'd mold. I had to remember that. I put new pants on, feeling complete again.

"What are you doing?"

I looked back at Mello in his sopping clothes. Oh. Should I provide him with something too? "I am smaller than you…but I do wear my clothing large. It might fit if you'd like…"

Mello frowned. "No, that's not it. You don't wear anything under your clothes."

What? "What do you mean?"

"I didn't need to know that you went commando," he grumbled.

I didn't understand what the military had to do with anything, so I went back to the earlier statement.

"Would you like dry clothes to wear?"

Mello was quiet to muse things over.

"Just a shirt. My pants aren't that wet."

I turned to get what he asked for and heard a slap of wet clothing hitting the floor. Mello was waiting, his upper body naked. I didn't see it for long as he took the white button-up and started to put it on. I've never seen him in such a light, pure color. Him usually sticking to the darker side of the color spectrum. And as I had thought, the top fit him well. Not in the sense that I personally thought my clothes looked good on him, but the sense that he could wear it without it being too tight.

Mello kicked his wet clothes to the side. So…what to do? I wasn't much of a conversation starter. No matter who I talked to, they would usually start things. And the chatty side of me had gone dormant apparently. I've never spoken long enough to Mello to know what he like to talk about. I know things he doesn't like. Like that question. But I shouldn't bring that up. What else is there? All the things I have to say are either strange or offensive.

"When do you want me out of here? I don't hear anyone in the hall."

You know, I wasn't expecting that. Because Mello was asking me when I wanted him to leave- even though he had just said he had a chance to leave. He was completely serious though. Because Mello doesn't joke with me. Not like that.

"Well…go when you feel the need."

Mello nodded. Then he walked and sat at my desk. Just sitting there.

"You're acting different. What happened?" Oh. Now it was time for me to talk again?

Mello wiped some of the hair off his forehead.

"Nothing. Lots of nothing," His tone was dry and humorless.

Even though I had apparently woken up, I felt completely drained. My energy was gone and that was becoming apparent fast. I was able to make it to my bed before my legs could gave out. Then I crawled under the covers, this being a rare occasion where I'd use them. I didn't get to see Mello leave. I was asleep in minutes, absorbed in the good feeling of warming back up.

* * *

**Oo~ lala~ getting all nude already? Yes. Yes they are.**

**And I'm sorry...I just can't picture Near in undie-pants. He like the cool air, remember? ;D**

**Reviews really appreciated!**


	8. Nothing More Than Usual

**Lordy, lordy... haven't updated in a while, right? Well, I finally got some motivation to finish this chappy and here it is! Have fun .**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Nothing More Than Usual**

I took time to ponder what happened that day, and every day after that. Let me put it this way: I never knew my shadow was so lively. The shadow being Mello. Not that he was constantly at my heels, but he was there a lot. He always ended up where I was. As if he were trying to be there on purpose. I open the door and he happens to be passing by. I'm in the common room and he comes in to get something. I'm studying in the library and so he is too. Though, I'm not trying to imply he's interested in me; just it's so uncanny that it's nearly every time. Even if when I try to talk to him, I'm ignored.

"Does it annoy you?"

I looked at Matt's question hanging in the air like a speck of dust.

Annoy. To disturb or bother a person in a way that displeases, troubles, or slightly irritates..."No." I think.

"Okay, does it make you uncomfortable?"

Uncomfortable. In a state of discomfort; uneasy; conscious of stress or strain."I'm not sure."

Matt shook his head, "Maybe you're just trying to avoid admitting it..."

"Admitting what?"

"That, Mello is getting to you. It funny though, I never took you for someone who had pride..."

"I don't. I don't have any problems with admitting defeat. I have no pride." What is wrong with me? Must I train myself to not let my consciousness slip out of my very own mouth?

Matt didn't seem to catch that probably inhuman saying though, forging onwards. "Okay. Whether uncomfortable or not, you are right. This is different from his usual "search and destroy" method."

What an eloquent way to put it."Why is it that way?"

Matt pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Why? How would I know?"

"You don't know then?"

Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. We were the only ones in the hallway.

"Did you ever think of asking Mello?"

"I can't. He doesn't like questions. That has been made apparent."

"Well, he's the only one who would know. You've got to get over your fears sometime-"

"I'm not scared. How could I be scared?" Tell me. I really, truly, want to know. How can I be scared?

Matt shrugged. "Well, you're only human. Humans get scared sometimes."

"I'm human?" He said it. Something I've always asked myself. Am I human? _Can_ I be human?

Matt laughed, "_What?_ Of course you're human, what else would you be? I admit that you sometimes come off as a little robotic, but you're still human."

"I don't know what I am." The floor suddenly became very interesting, and I put my head down. The polished gleam was long gone. It was all worn. What once was brown was now scratched and grey looking.

"Near, you sure say some fascinating things. I don't know what's made you doubt your humanity, but you are a _bona fide _human boy. Got all the right parts as far as I've seen."

"But, I can't feel." That wasn't meant to come out. There I go again saying things I don't want to say...

Matt laughed again, "You say the most alien things sometimes! If you couldn't feel, you'd technically be a psychopath, right? You_ have _feelings. I know it."

"How?" Tell me how I'm human. I want to know. I need to know.

"How? Well, if you really didn't have feelings, would that matter to you then? There's your proof right there."

Really? It couldn't have been that simple.

"Besides all that weird stuff about you being human, why don't you just go and ask him? He's gotten over that question stuff, so it should be safe."

"How do you know?"

Matt shifted his weight back to an even distribution. "I talked to him. He's over it."

"But you don't know why he's been around so often?"

"Ah, nope. Didn't come up."

"So the only way I can..."

"Is to ask him yourself."

"Can't you?"

Matt crossed his arms, "Not really. I have things to do today."

"No worries. I can wait."

"No, I don't think you can. I'll help you on your way."

I was grabbed by the elbow, and vigorously dragged through the halls. I don't understand this enthusiasm. Did it matter if it were me or not?

"Mello!" Matt rapped at the door.

We were already there? Already?

The door opened and the expression meant to show amusement towards Matt quickly transformed to something unreadable as eyes fell to me.

"What is it?" he asked.

Matt shouldered our way in past, and I was seated on the bed. He turned around to face Mello, whose cold expression was faltering now. He was irritated. He was going to... no. He wasn't going to hurt me.

"Matt, what is this?"

Matt sighed, massaging the back of his neck, "Ah, I had to show him the way. He said he needed to ask you something. Sorry, but I've got to leave now. I seriously have some things I need to take care of." And then he left with a pat on the back to Mello as he left.

The door was shut. Mello looked at me.

"What did you want to know?"

I'm glad he was being civil...but who knew how long it would last? Matt may have said he was over it, but that didn't really make it any easier. I wasn't scared though. No, I wasn't scared. So, I should just ask.

"Why are you around so much?"

Mello traced along the farthest wall to sit at his desk. "It's not any more than usual."

"It's not..."

"No, it's not. Though I haven't been bothering you, so I don't know why you're brining it up now."

Oh. Not any different? Was it just that I noticed because it's different to see him around... and not being there for me? So that's the answer. It's nothing different. But it feels like it is. It's a feeling. Small, but there. I can't understand what it is though. I may never know...

"Anything else? I have left you alone, finally, and now you're coming around to bother _me._ Where's the logic in that?"

I don't know. Logic hasn't been working well for me recently. But that wasn't a literal question.

"You don't care anymore? About me?"

Mello narrowed his eyes. Staring hard, as if he were trying to see right into me.

"After I stopped hating you, there was nothing left to care about." I see. He doesn't care. "You don't care either. So, now we're even."

I don't care. Right. I don't care. So, why...am I here? Last time I was here, I was punched. This place does not serve well for good memories.

"I should leave then?"

Mello sighed, picking up a pencil and chewing at the eraser. "Should you? I don't care what you do, just don't get in my way."

Hm? He doesn't care. He doesn't care if I'm here. No... This is too strange. This isn't like Mello at all. It was just temporary. Probably. But, just because my curiosity had no care for my physical being, I stayed in that room anyway. There wasn't anything for me to do. Classes were over for the day. I had nothing to do. Though, it was...different. Strange. Awkward. To be like this. Sitting in Mello's room, on Mello's bed, in Mello's company. He held to his promise too. He really didn't act like he cared. Sometimes I would ask him what he was doing. I'd get a generic answer like, "work". But he wasn't doing anything. Not reacting to anything I said or did. ...I didn't like this. He wasn't being as expressive as he once was. That was something I had liked.

I shouldn't be trying to provoke him. I wouldn't call it that, though my attempts became more bold as I waited for a reaction.

"What are you doing?" Mello asked as I leaned to look at his paper, a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm observing your work."

I could feel the muscles in his shoulder jerk with his pencil scribbles. Mello continued, without even looking over at me.

"Get off me. I never said you could touch me."

It didn't sound violent exactly, but I put my hand down anyway. He continued writing, hair like a curtain to his expression. Did I bother him yet? Was he ever going to show me that human part of him again?

"You spelt dissertation wrong. There are two S's."

He rubbed the pink end of the pencil around the word, rewriting it as I had said.

What did I do? I wandered back over to the bed, sitting down and curling up my legs. I watched him work. Nothing really happened. Soon, I was in a daze, staring out the window and going over the past lessons we've been working on. A chair scraped across the floor, and I looked up at the blonde.

"I've got to use the bathroom."

The bathroom? "Can I go too?"

Mello looked at me again with narrowed eyes. "I don't know, can you? It's a public bathroom, so I can't stop you."

That's true. Mello stepped quickly out the door, I following as best as I could.

Mello stopped at the first urinal. I stopped at the second. He looked me straight in the eye.

"Do you have business with me, or is it that you just get your kicks out of close and personal bouts with me now?"

"No."

His eyes fell down on me, and then he went to stare straight ahead at the wall.

"I'm surprised you even know how to work that thing," he said with a huff.

"What? Why?"

A sigh. "I'd prefer if we'd leave the talk to when everything is back in our pants, alright?"

Mello quickly finished after that, washing and leaving without me. Was I allowed to go back to his room again? I found myself willing to try. After washing my hands I walked back up to his room and knocked on the door. It was opened and I walked past Mello to sit on the bed again. He grumbled something, I'm not sure what, and closed the door.

"What did I do that was surprising?"

Mello rolled his eyes, "Nothing. I was being sarcastic, alright? I just never saw you doing anything that normal. Forgetting that you ignored the rule of spacing."

"Do something normal? Of course I need to use-"

"I know that. It's only that it's easier to believe when you see it yourself."

"You wanted to see-"

"Go fuck yourself. Don't act like that meant anything other than what I meant it to mean."

"I wasn't going to-"

"It's not like it's all that different from anyone else's. So, it's not like it matters."

"Okay..."

"Good."

I curled up my legs again.

"It's not like I haven't seen it before."

I looked at Mello. His arms with crossed and he wore a scowl.

"I got enough of a show to last me that other night."

"I'm sorry?"

"But, like I said, things like that don't matter. We're both guys. Who cares?"

"Right..."

Mello went and checked the only clock in the room. "Aren't you going to go to your room now? You've wasted enough of my time, and I have things to do before bed."

Yes. I can go to my room now. Slowly, I uncurled myself. My feet were placed on the floor, and I gave Mello one last look.

"Sorry. Thank you." I'm not sure which one I wanted to say the most.

I opened the door, shutting it without turning around, and shuffled back to my room. I didn't turn the light on. I pulled the shades up and saw the covering of minute ice needles. I scratched a star into it. Then another. And another. Until it was filled with stars and the tip of my finger was numb. Then I had to get ready for tomorrow.

I grabbed the hamper, dragging it to the door. I should get started on these. I left to the hallway, which was empty. It was slow moving, getting all the way to the stairs. Then, I had to get it down. It wouldn't be as easy dragging it here. I managed though, taking a few steps ahead of it, then guiding it down two thumps. The process was slow, but I had a lot of clothes this week. Somehow they would get wet, or dirty, or other unfortunate things...

The laundry room was just over there.

"Do you need help with that?" Creole smiled from where she stood against the wall.

"Yes. Please."

The girl pranced over, taking an armful and lightening the load significantly. Then, both of us weighted over to the laundry room. Once inside, Creole dropped the clothes by a washer. She smiled in satisfaction, slapping her hands together.

"Là vous allez!"

"Thank you."

"Welcome." She started picking up clothing, tossing them inside a nearby machine.

"You don't need to do that..."

"It is all right. We are friends!" She stopped, placing hands on her hips. "But, I will not be doing it all myself! Dépêchez-vous et aider."

We spent another good amount of time together, silently dealing with my laundry. She is very good at being silent at times. Her face concentrated at what was on hand. Really, very focused.

"How...was your day," I'm not really good at small talk. Such a valuable skill...

Creole tilted a look in my direction, "Moi?" She smiled again, "Good! I am glad you asked. How about you? Was your day good?"

I measured more detergent and threw it in one of the machines, turning the right setting on and leaving it be. Was my day good. I got up. Took classes as normal. I watched the children in the common room until Matt had called me into the hall for that talk. Then I was with Mello. Not much happened then. Nothing bad though so... "I suppose it's been a good day."

"Very good!" Creole nodded in some sort of approval. Then she slammed one last machine shut. That was it. There was only the one load I had just put in that needed to be dried. Work went quicker than expected. She wasn't distracting at all.

Creole bowed, grinning like a devil. What was that for?

"What is with that face?"

"What face? I'm just happy for my payment!"

"Payment?"

"Oh, Near. Will you please come and play with me tomorrow?"

"...alright."

"Very good!" Creole straightened back up. She looked so sunny. "Très bien!"

"Okay."

Creole giggled, patting the stack of folded shirts and pants she'd been working on. "I am sad that I was not able to help you carry them back up! Did you know about that paper due in the class for the history of the world? I have thought of something I must add to it just now! Bye, bye, Near! Adieu!" And she scampered out the door.

I trudged back up the stairs with a hamper of clean clothes, and this time it took even longer. I folded my clothes up and put them in the dresser. I tucked in the sheets that would surely all be in a bundle by morning. Laying myself down, I looked out the window. The stars were still there, etched in. And in between the lines, real stars were out now. Cloud-cover was zero. Just an empty, open sky. There to show me how big the world is and how small I am.

It's kind of useless to know what I know, when I know there's no way I'll ever be able to understand it all. That was the last thought for tonight. Relax. No thinking now. That is the only way I can sleep. In nothing. Cold and empty. Like the night sky.

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**There she is! What, it took...3 or 4 months? I was suffering some thought blockage on what to do! This has no plot really~ And what a weird chapter to make anyway!**

**When will they fall in love! ...WILL they fall in love? Oh, my... will they? Can they?**

**Who knows? I sure don't... Feel free to shoot me your opinions! **

******Reviews really appreciated!**


	9. Thinking about You and What It Means

**I'm back? Gee, I finally got something going for me! I really needed to think ahead to where this was heading... *le sigh***

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**Chapter 9: Thinking about You and What It Means**

"Good Morning, Good Morning~ It's great to stay up late! Good Morning, Good Morning to you~!"

What is that wiggling?

"Good Morning, Good Morning~"

This is a terrible way to have to wake up. I could appreciate the attempt...though I don't. And appreciative or not, I opened my eyes nonetheless. Creole sat beside the nest I had created via nighttime subliminal nest-building impulses. I never have gotten around to figuring out as to why I woke up the same way every morning. I digress. She was here because I agreed in a previous encounter. To "play". Such a opaque suggestion...I can't fathom what it really means.

"Hello," I managed to say in the typical way of greeting.

Creole bopped her head along with the song she sang, "Good Morning, Good Mooooorning~!"

The bed rocked back and fourth, consequence of her wiggling, and my nest was falling apart. It was certain the end would not come unless I acted to her wishes. I curled upright, leaning into her as I struggled to untangle my legs from the sheets. A thought was spontaneously and briefly addressed in that blend of nothing and something: I don't mind this warmth. That also segued into the last time I didn't complain about the warmth. One thing always leading into another. An average contact with a over-zealous girl bouncing on my bed—straight to frozen fingers clutching a surprisingly mellow, blonde boy in the rain. Then and now, I don't mind it much. Not bad. Maybe nice.

I finally freeing myself, I created a more courteous distance. Others prefer their personal space just as I used to. Still do? Maybe it's more of a situational case, I'm starting to question myself in these matters.

Creole smiled, kicking her feet out in a playful way, "Nous allons sortir pour s'amuser~! We're going out to have fun!"

Fun? It's hard to not be overly doubtful at that. Though the time together in the forest...it was not unpleasant up until the point Mello interrupted. The "study group" wasn't exactly terrible either...until Mello interrupted. A lot of things are fine until Mello interrupts. I looked at the stars etched in the window. They were nearly erased with a new coat of frost donning the glass. Expression is such a complicated thing...

Folded neatly on the dresser was the sweatshirt I'd used exactly twice that was Creole's. I grabbed the powder blue fabric, remembering that it wasn't actually mine. I turned back, holding it out sightly. "This is yours."

Creole looked at it, head tilted a fraction more than usual. Then smiled. "You keep it."

"Why? Are we going outside?"

Creole shook her head, "Nope. I just think I'd like you to keep it."

I didn't understand. Though lack of understanding did not deter me from putting the outerwear back on the dresser.

Creole made herself upright, smiling gleefully as she swung open the door. "Today we will make art! Fun, non?"

* * *

Art. I was lead very hastily through the hallways, and at the very end, lead right into the storage room for art supplies. Already there were papers arranged and different mediums of art supplies lined up.

"Please, choose to use whatever you'd like to use!" Creole already sat herself neatly before different colored pencils, picking out colors with a careful hand.

I stood at the doorway, at a loss. I couldn't create anything with these. Art? Something that required thought and patience. Emotion. Feeling, and motivation. I struggle with nearly the most simple interactions other humans can do subconsciously. I can't create art. I can't create anything. A static character cannot be the protagonist. A puppet cannot dance without strings.

Creole pats a spot next to her, "Sit and enjoy the peace that comes with smelling the stale air—the hum of quiet—the paper beneath your fingers!"

I did sit. I sat and stared at the blank sheet of paper she was ever so eager to set up. What do I do now? Creole hums another tune as she picks around a few different shades of yellow. One is too bright. It almost glows on the paper. Another is too dark, like mustard. How does she know what she wants? I look at the paper in front of me. How do I know what I want?

"What are you doing? Can't think of anything you want to draw?"

I only shake my head. Of course I don't.

Creole purses her lips, tapping the ground. It's a fruitless effort. Even if she tells me what to make, it will hardly be anything special. Her bronze hands dance over to a dusty box beside her. She slides it open to check the contents before passing it to me. "Chalk."

I take it, not positive in what she was getting at. I was to draw with chalk?

"When I was little, I played with chalk. And when you have chalk—you don't really need to know what you're drawing! You only need to start," she gently nudged with her elbow, then when back to her yellow pencils.

Only need to start? I slid open the box to look at the colors not arranged in any order. I didn't even know how to do that much. Starting seems like the hardest part. What color do you pick? What line do you start with? What direction will it go? Straight? Curved? "What color do I use?"

"Leave black for last. Other than that..." her voice thinned into nothing as she focused now on shades of green.

I looked back into the dusty box in my hands. There was blue. Light and dark. I picked up the lightest, scratching it across the blank surface. That was a start, right there. A single bold, blue line across the paper. Now to finish. I covered the entire surface in the one, solid blue. For some reason I must have thought all colors are separate. Yellow is yellow. Blue is blue. But, there are shades of all colors. And there is another blue. Starting at the edges, I filled it in until the light blue made up only a circle in the middle. Though, the colors were still too separated. Too cleanly side-by-side. Slowly I brought in more of the dark blue. Fraying the edges of the perfect light blue circle. Darkness jutting in towards the center. Black last. A black circle in the middle of it all.

"Like, the light is fighting against the darkness. With the darkness gaining ground."

"Hm?" Creole looks over at my creation and gives a petite nod, "I see."

I create another. More circles. More blue. Blue is such an intriguing color. Representing the human emotion sadness...then can also represent happiness and optimism. Clear skies. Water. Ice. Then winter. Calm and faith. Over and over, I continue with the two colored blues. More light being consumed by darkness. The light becoming more sparse with each new creation. More, until there was no light left. Only dark blue, and that too began to be taken over by the black. And finally, the black covered the whole page. Nothing left.

Creole was still entertained by her own project, and I began to neatly put my creations in order. At the shuffling of papers, my neighbor was finally removed from her stooped concentration. Eyes flitting to me, she held out a hand.

"S'il vous plaît? Can I see?"

I didn't understand her interest, but handed them over anyway. I tried to read her emotion. To see what she thought. There was not an inch of wavering though. Each page was studied with a neutral expression, then flipped face-down beside her. It had taken a surprisingly large bit of time for her to finally get to the last, all-black, page.

"I like this one the most," and she nodded with finality at the black page.

"Why?"

"Because there is still a little bit of light left," she points out a dab of light blue, "As each one of your pictures moved on, they became darker and darker. I'm just glad that in the end, some light survived."

I didn't do that intentionally. I didn't have those feelings when putting them together. It was only my wishing to use blue.

"Want to see what I've done?" Creole holds up a basket of fruit.

A basket of fruit, huh. "What's it supposed to mean?"

I received a strange look as she went between me and her artwork, "Mean?"

"Mine meant something to you, what did yours mean to you?"

There was a pause for thinking before the reply, "I made it without much meaning or motivation behind it. I wanted to color a pear, and it escalated from there."

"Why a pear?"

"It's my favorite fruit. Mémé liked them too..."

Creole stood up, sighing heavily before holding a hand out. "You're bored by now, non? We'll go look for friends!"

* * *

I wish to approach. Maybe he has changed his mind? Maybe he will be already reverted back to his old self. Though, he didn't even care to look over as we came in the common room. Creole was very insured to get both his and Matt's attention though.

"Ah! We have arrived to see you!"

Matt was reclined in a plush chair, across from Mello who held a black rook in his hand. The chess piece was set down with a soft click, then he took to reclining in his chair as well. Matt shifted his position so he was more facing us. He grinned, raising his eyebrows in an expressive way.

"You were looking for us?"

Creole boldly sat herself on the arm of his seat, arching her body across the back like a melting snow man does as the season moves on to warmer days. She fiddled with her ringlets, pointing and unpointing her toes. "We were looking for friends, yes."

"Where were you two earlier?"

"Making art!"

The two continued their conversation without my attentiveness as I tried to think. _After I stopped hating you, there was nothing left to care about. _Mello had said this yesterday. And now, supposedly, there is a complete void of emotion from him when he must interact with me. Which I've realized, and which I've realized I find it...uncomfortable. My reasoning is that he was the most interesting human I've met. I've spent much time musing over his motivation for acting against my expectations. This is yet another time he's acting against expectations, though it's more frustrating because he's not done anything to see. Even now. Mello sits there. Eyes focused on the others conversation. Fingers tapping dully on the lush armrest. Legs crossed and arms spread across the back of the seat as if casually protecting his chair from anyone who might also try and lie across it. He makes a point of looking at me, but doesn't express any sign of acknowledgment. He goes back to staring at Matt and Creole.

"You don't care?"

I was finally returned a genuine look this time, from all three members of the small gathering. Mello grimaced.

"Why are you bringing this up again? Yeah, you fucking win and you're not worth the wasted breath. You wanted me to admit it in front of everyone? There. So everyone knows, I no longer care about anything Near does and will leave him to his all-knowing self."

Matt and Creole had the same face upheld. Sad? Worried? Confused? I don't know what it meant. I was too busy trying to figure out Mello.

"I am a human. And humans have feelings. And I also don't understand everything. And I try to understand. And things matter to me. And what matters to me is that you don't care. When you used to care, it was better than this," Is what I'm saying making sense? I must admit, my stream of thought is butchered. I never speak like this. I don't even know what I want to say, but I continue, "Hate is not exactly what I want though. If there was any way to have feelings that did not graduate to violence—that would be what I want. Friends."

The last word was hardest to pronounce. For some reason...it felt wrong to say it. It was what I wanted to say, but I was hesitant to say it? Like if I said it, I would automatically be rejected. It felt that way. Like there was no possible way. Like maybe I shouldn't even say it...

Mello's expression narrowed into something not at all amiable, "You want to be friends."

I nodded. Yes. That was the term tossed around the last few times I discussed things with Matt and Creole, who both watched without interruption.

His expression relaxed into something more...cynical, as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling where they remained, "That's such a stupidly blunt question. Asking to be friends seems so, _I'm the new kid and I don't know anyone, will you be my friend so I'm not an awkward social outcast and get beat up by the local bullies_?"

Oh. So I was right then. I never should have asked. He considered it something foolish. This was a fruitless endeavor. I should forget it. From now on, we will forever 'not care' about each others existence...

"I'm not saying I'm going to suddenly be buddy-buddy with you—I might... stop with the cold shoulder. If it matters _that _much to you," He spoke as if suddenly all the one-sided emulation was never there. Eager to reconcile.

"We will be friends?"

"No," the answer snapped out without resistance, "I've always had my reasons to hate you. I don't have any reason to be friends with you."

What? "What do I have to do?"

Mello lolled his head back, "I don't know. Don't piss me off first. Then, work on making me like you. Do whatever it takes."

"You've changed your mind." I looked at Matt, whose face hardened. That wasn't just a statement. Almost an accusation.

Mello leaned forward, returning the gaze.

"Yes. Aren't you happy, Matt?'

* * *

Creole had felt a need for sleep, already left and gone to bed. Matt had been questioning Mello for the while after. I didn't follow. Something about forcing and suspicious motivation. I didn't really care for it. My goal had been to get Mello to feel towards me again. And yes, he did seem more lively.

"You feel like keeping me company for the rest of the night, Near?"

"Yes."

Matt raised a hand, stopping the transaction of words, "Mello..."

"How about we talk later?" Mello stood up, a fraction taller than the red-head. Matt looked from me back at Mello in a fluttery uncertainty.

Mello quirked an eyebrow, "Matt? Do you have a problem with something?"

"You're doing this so suddenly. And you've never—"

"What of it?" Mello's cool demeanor broke as he snatched me from around the other boy, "You don't know anything..."

"Mello—"

"You _don't _know what I want, so stop trying to prevent whatever you think is going to happen! I'm not gonna _hurt_ him!"

It did hurt a little. The grip as I was, again, dragged through the hallways and to the rooms. I heard nothing but the breathy curses from the boy ahead of me until we were finally there. Stopped. In front of his room.

"I'll let you go," His hand touch the knob to his room. "If Matt scared you away, you don't have to come in. He thinks my change of heart is doubtful... Though he doesn't know how much I've been thinking about it."

That's a surprising confession in more than one way. I think he noticed too. He has hidden his face. He's been thinking about it. About me. Even when he had said he didn't care? And then, again strange that Matt did not know about it? If my long time observations were right, Matt should have known. Mello feels Matt is who he can trust most, correct? Why wouldn't Matt know?

Mello finally turned back around. He wanted an answer. Am I going to leave because I'm afraid? No. "I'm not afraid of you."

The door opened.

* * *

**GUESS WHAT HAPPENS IN THAT ROOM!**

**Nothing special...unless you read the NEXT CHAPTER!**


	10. Fear?

**Come get a good dose of awkward and confused teenagers! Come one and all-don't be shy!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Fear?**

"What are you doing?"

"Working."

No fights. No passiveness. Not much of anything, because Mello was hunched over his crowded desk, working on recreational papers. It must have been recreational—there were no assignments of the late. I don't think I'm being ignored, not like I had been the days before. I don't think he is doing it with the purpose of wounding. He looks tense. His shoulders squared out. Little jerky motions. I sat on the rumpled bed, watching with interest as he struggled with whatever was troubling him. Can I talk?

"I apologize beforehand for speaking, but are there rules?"

Mello looked over his shoulder. Was he mad? I can't see his face.

"Rules." Mello finally made the full turn so we would be facing head-on.

"Well...I don't know what I'm allowed to do. Or not to do," Mello had crossed his arms. "I just don't want to spoil any chance I have. I don't want you to stop caring." Because I care, and if you stop caring, I might stop caring. Caring is what has finally made me human.

Mello reached behind himself, opening a drawer. Without so much as a look, he was navigating around inside. His hand withdrew with a bar of chocolate. He bit down on a corner, the snap of cold chocolate also snapping at my nerves. An overpowering need to run away. I said something wrong. I could stop thinking that. He was going to stop caring right this instant—I've ruined it already. The only one who has made me feel human will never care about me. He will not care if I feel human or not. And I will live the rest of my life with the purpose of someday fading out of existence. Nothing to look forward to but my _death_.

"There are no rules."

He responded. No rules he said. What do those words mean again? Words. Think. No; a negative used to express dissent, denial, or refusal, as in response to a question or request. Rules; a principle or regulation governing conduct, action, procedure, arrangement. More words. I have to understand them. What's wrong with my ability to comprehend? Why can't I understand? It's as if there is a thick sap over my mind. It's hard to think. It's hard to hear. It's hard to breathe—

"Near."

That's my name. I hear it and look up. Mello sat reverse at his desk. Still watching me, still gently chewing on his chocolate bar. Oh. Words suddenly are words. Completely apprehensible. He wasn't going to stop caring. I had most oddly jumped to conclusions, and the result was something... I hope I don't ever react that way again. To anything. The feeling of living only to die. That used to be a casual thought for me. It used to not—well, it never led to whatever that short episode that was only a moment ago.

"Near?"

"There are no rules?"

Mello shook his head, "No rules. It's not that easy."

Oh. "What do I do?"

"I don't know. I don't what I should do either."

"...what are we doing now?"

Mello's mouth fell grimly. "I don't know about that, either."

Oh. "Mello." I don't know what to say now. This is an uncomfortable end to a conversation that never started.

"What?"

"Why?"

Mello curled his legs around the chair he was in, "Why? That's so vague, it's stupid."

"I want to know why for a lot of things, though. Being broad is easiest."

"Just ask the damn question you wanna ask."

What do I want to ask? I want to know... "What were you thinking? Specifically, I want to know why you were thinking about me when you said you had stopped caring about me, or really, you just stopped hating me. That is what I want to ask about."

His hand made for his forehead, messaging circles around his temples, "I don't know that either."

"Um, how about why Matt doesn't know."

"He doesn't need to know everything."

"Am I going to stay here tonight?"

Mello looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, then to me. "...I don't care."

"You don't?" But he said that he would care. He said—

"I mean, you can. I don't mind. I would be okay with it."

The bubble of pressure that had risen in my chest deflated. He meant that he didn't mind. Not that he didn't care. Really. I hate this new feeling... Ignoring the fact that I'm hating in the first place. I hate that I feel...pressure. And I want to run away. It seems illogical when I think about it. There's no deadly loss if he doesn't care. I won't die. But even at a hint that he might not care, I am ready to give up for the remainder of my life.

Mello and I remained across the room from each other most of the night. I asked a lot of questions. A lot of them he didn't know how to answer. I didn't learn much. In a ratio of conversation to silence, silence was the victor. It gave a full load of time to reflect on my feelings though. I'm not sure how well I was able to concentrate with him right there though. I kept finding myself watching instead of thinking. By a time it was well into the night, Mello was awkwardly hanging over his chair, still never coming closer. I had moved under the covers, buried in their warmth. A warmth that my blankets seemed to lack.

"Do you want your bed, Mello? I can sleep on the floor."

He was working on eating another chocolate bar, adding another wrapper to the growing clutter on the desk behind him. "No, you sleep there."

At least I asked this time. The other time actually being with Matt, not Mello though. I watched Mello. I watched the digital alarm clock measure each hour passing. It has never been this hard to fall asleep. I feel tired. I want sleep. But, I can't bring myself to close my eyes. I keep watching his back. I don't know that anything will happen, but I am expecting something to happen. Or, hoping? The corners of my vision started to prickle. I guess my body has had enough hoping and was shutting down manually. I didn't even need to make myself empty for sleep. Everything flushed out.

* * *

We were assigned projects today. It's curious that Mello and I are studying together though. Is it not too soon for this? And does that not prove my awkwardness in polite social interacting, if sitting together and studying is too big of a step? Well, it might have been, since it's Mello. Mello is someone I don't think I'll ever fully understand. I agreed to this because he offered. And here we are. Together. Him studying some political policies, I studying a bit on psychology. Mello's choice of study being a large, dusty tome from the depths of the library. For me, I had gotten for myself a stack of once filed away scholarly articles. After a brief on the project, the student teacher overseeing the filing room at the front of the library agreed that it was fine to part with them temporarily. Mello and I weren't the only ones in the library. Especially due to the sudden upbringing of projects. Each break in book and shelf, there were tables set up; each table held a group of two or more able-bodies. Our place of study was in the furthest corner of the library, hidden by the untouched religious texts. Mello's chair was propped at an angle, the book on his lap as he leaned against the wall. His face looked fierce, though I'm not sure if that was the intensity of his studying, or that he didn't like what he was reading...

The particular article was discussing the use of reveling truths about others though indirect incitement, or riddles. For example, "You really love them, don't you—"

"_What?_" Mello was staring at me in a peculiar way. A face that was usually reserved for when something inappropriate was said. Though, Mello isn't one to be bothered by something less appropriate anyway. And that is what confused me.

"You really love them, don't you. A simple psychological question. Not a single name is mentioned,  
but someone suddenly comes to mind," I clarified. "I hadn't time to finish reading—you interrupted."

"Of course I did! I thought you were talking to me."

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you."

"..."

"Did it work? Did some special person come to mind?"

Mello slapped his book shut, dust furling into the air, "N...not at all."

"That is too bad. That very well could have been personal data and useful in our report." Oh well. What else is there to see? Evolutionary Psychology and the emotions. What kind of programs can emotions mobilize? Any controllable biological process that, by shifting its performance in a specifiable way, would lead to enhanced average fitness outcomes should have come to be partially governed by emotional state. Such processes include; goals, motivational priorities. Information-gathering motivations. What one is curious about, what one finds interesting, what one is obsessed with discovering should all be emotion-specific. Memory and attention. Physiology: Each organ system, tissue, or process is a potential candidate for emotion-specific regulation, and "arousal" is insufficiently specific to capture the detailed coordination involved. Arousal being state of being awake or reactive to stimuli (this being studied in both psychology and physiology); physiology itself covering a wide variety of functions, ranging from cellular, to the interaction of organ systems that keep the most complex biological machines running. Humans.

The whole work is enlightening. Energy level, effort allocation, and mood. Maybe the lack of energy really was an issue... Either way, I moved on. Ah. Another riddle.

"A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met a man who she did not know. She thought he was 'amazing'. She believed him to be her dream partner so much, that she fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister. Question: What was her motive for killing her sister?"

Why? I avoided the printed answer, thinking it over for myself. She murdered her sister. Was her perfect lover also a lover of the sister? That might—

"She killed her sister so she could meet the guy at the funeral."

"What?"

Mello was looking over with earnest sincerity. His eyes steeled over, his book set down again. "She killed her sister, because then she would have the chance to meet her "dream lover" or whatever again at the newest funeral."

That didn't make sense. There was no guarantee that the man would return for the sister's death. No, the girl probably was suffering from some sort of trauma and was bound for self destruction— My gaze fell back to the print.

Answer: She was hoping the man would appear at the funeral again. This was a test by a famous American psychologist used to test if one has the same mentality as a killer. Many arrested serial killers took part in the test and answered the question correctly...

I'm not sure what to do with that information. Mello honestly answered a riddle meant for testing psychopaths.

"Have...you heard that riddle before?"

Mello stopped in mid-stretch, "Hm? No...it just made sense."

"...how?"

He started looking at his book again. Flipping pages. Flipping pages. Stops.

"I don't know. She seemed kind of psycho already for falling in love with a stranger at a funeral...why not push it a little further to say she's psycho enough to think he'll be at every funeral?"

So that was his reasoning. It's a bit of a relief. So long as he is not actually approving of her conclusion, and simply thinking as she would. But not thinking _as_ she would, just thinking about what she would think if he were to think like her. That is my very backwards way of explaining my unease when there was the possibility that Mello was clinically insane. I'd prefer to move on to less deadly topics.

"You love them, don't you?"

His text was unjustly slammed down again.

"Stop _saying _that!"

"I'm only trying to get a reaction. Anybody come to mind yet?"

"Never, and there never will be. I refuse to let there be. And if there was, I refuse to acknowledge it."

"That's not a healthy way of processing information. This is data we need to collect."

"What's the relevance? That isn't my project, and I don't remember saying anything about love that makes you think I want to be a part of it. I bet you're only bringing it up to bother me!"

"I had no way of knowing it would bother you."

"If you'd paid attention earlier when you said it, did I look happy?"

I'd been looking at the papers too closely to have seen anything. I had glanced up to see him staring at me, and once more to see him slam his book shut. Maybe he wasn't happy, but he didn't seem very angry either.

"I'm sorry to have brought it up again. It's something I'm interested in..."

"What exactly are you interested in?"

"Human behavior. Particularly emotion."

I swear, his expression twitched into something disappointed. All of that before the look was gone. Replaced by a molded expression of everyday boredom. I have to wonder if I had seen anything at all. Was that a crest fell? All this questionable behavior surely meant Mello was back to his old self; a curious oddity to spend a while with. This time though, I had the advantage of being able to outright question him.

"What had you liked to imagine I was interested in?"

Mello had buried his head in his book now, face a cold grimace.

"Would you have liked it to have been psychology?"

Nothing.

"Would you have liked it to have been you're reaction?"

Nothing.

"Would you have liked it to have been you?"

Mello knocked his chair over in the process of quickly exiting the library. Somewhere beyond the shelves, the door slammed. The same student teacher from the front pittered over on high heels, looking distressed.

"Did...did something happen? That boy didn't hurt anything did he?"

I looked at the chair, lying dead on it side. Then to the woman with the starched blouse and shirt, hands wriggling around, expressing her discontent even more.

"No. Nothing is hurt, Miss," I too, pushed back my chair to stand. "Good day, Miss."

I up-righted the chair, and left to find where Mello had left to.

* * *

Matt had caught me before I could catch Mello. I was gently pulled to the side of the hallway as he asked, "What happened?"

"Mello became angry over something, and now I am looking for him."

Matt's eyes widened behind his goggles. "What? He's been gone since yesterday?"

"No. Just now... Didn't you see him in class?"

"I wasn't in class. So, what happened _last night? _That's what I'm asking."

Last night... "It is not a very interesting story. Nothing much happened. He couldn't answer any of my questions either."

"And he didn't hurt you."

"No. He's never hurt me," Exempting him punching me that last time, though I felt that unnecessary information.

"Did it feel like he was hiding something? Like, he was trying to trick you?"

Hide something? "A maybe to the former. To the best of my observation, Mello seemed more...tense. If that can be translated into hiding something."

Matt's lips became a thin line, as the thought process was made clearly visible.

"He was tense. Any idea why? He hasn't said a word to me in over—"

"Mello did say that he didn't want to tell you 'why' either."

"Why, what?"

"Why he was thinking about me, when he said he didn't care about me. But, he doesn't know why to a lot of everything anyway, so you are not missing very much."

"...thinking?" Matt scratched his head, lips thin as I would imagine possible. Then there was a bloom of realization. His mouth quirked at the corners as his head fell.

"What is it? Do you know why?" If he knew anything to explain this new and still very unreadable Mello, I'd gladly accept the information.

"No, not exactly," his head picked back up. "I know in my own way."

Matt had nothing left to say after that. Said something about relief over a lie, and then left saying he'd promised the day to a group of friends. What happened to everyone dragging me around to where I was supposed to be? It's strange. I could just give up. I _could_. Before, I most likely would have. Now, it's changed. It being me. I'm not an it. I'm not a thing. Not an object, soul-less and dead. Because I am going to move. I am going to go where I want to be. I want to be with Mello.

* * *

_Knock, knock, knock._

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

"..."

"Can I come in?"

The door swung open, and he stood very tall-looking in the doorway. Maybe not really all that tall for someone of normal height. Tall for me. Mello didn't move to allow entrance. Perhaps the conversation was to be in the hallway then.

"Matt is no longer worried." What? Why is it that I am still able to speak, even when I'm not wanting to speak?

It didn't look like Mello knew how to respond. Something else to say...

"And he sad that he's relived that you lied."

Mello still stood, like a guard at his post. Only his eyes still revealed the life inside him.

"What had you lied about?"

"How much I hate you."

"Oh." He must hate me plenty. That is usually how it works between us. Though, that's a one-way feeling. I can't label my intrigue. I can't name what makes his eyes my favorite color, or what makes chocolate an instant reminder of him being close. I can't tag why I always look when he's there, and I can't find reason why it's him. It's him. For everything, there is him. And it's confusing that even before this it was him—though I don't think I was capable of noticing until recently.

Hm? I was being led inside.

* * *

**Is the anxiety killing you like it's killing me! Gee dang, I have poor endings for chapters!**

**So this was all Near and his earth-shattering realization that he is feeling, and he is feeling HARD. "..." Pfft-Not like THAT. Just like, they're really BIG feelings. "..." Pfft-Not like THAT. Anyway. Near is feeling like Mello is super important, Mello is feeling like...Mello. Ya know.**

**See ya at the next update!**

**MAYBE.**


	11. The Dreams Start

**Gahh...I re-wrote this like...a ZILLION times. You have no IDEA how many different endings this chapter had.**

**Yeah, there were a ton of ways to go with this. This is about the most cheerful ending I could manage! (Not implying that it is un-cheerful though)**

* * *

**Chapter 11: The Dreams Start**

The door clicked shut. The window open—only a fraction though. It was cooler than normal, and the heat standing beside me was substantially warmer. Maybe that was only relative though.

"I told him I hate you so he'd stop talking about you. I just wanted some time to think for myself."

I didn't want to move away. Mello was right there, head just above mine. I was temped to look up. I wanted to. But, he had more to say—and it felt as if he'd be deterred if he were to look straight at me. I wouldn't be moving away either though. I was dealing with a wild animal. No sudden movements. Let them go about what they do naturally.

"I did think. And a lot of my thinking was about—how you are more than I thought you were. You're more than you let others know."

That's interesting, because only just recently I've only started feeling that I was anything at all.

"For the longest time, you were mocking me. With your indifference, and lifeless attitude whenever I was around... I hated that I couldn't get your attention." As Mello was speaking, I was questioning the fraction of a distance between us. Why was it there? Both of us, with this barrier between. When I was hated, we were always close. Always made contact. Now, there is this distance between us. It is something like a hole. Something that is meant to be filled in. I wanted to fill in this distance that Mello was creating. "Then I started obsessing over the whole thing and got angry with myself. Actually, I hated myself_..._ Then I hurt you over something stupid. So stupid, I don't even remember why it made me angry—y_ou thought I was going to hurt you._ Of course you did! I was acting like a fucking lunatic."

I wasn't thinking he was going to hurt me. Even though he _did _end up hurting me. I stared straight into Mello's chest, still being cautious. Mello is so _very_ human. So much more human than I might ever be. For me, I care about peoples thoughts. The actual words that are processed in their mind. But for someone such as Mello...he doesn't care so much about the thought, but the feeling behind it. I'm sure. And he cared about what I may or may not have felt about him. "Would it matter much if I said I did not think you would be hurting me?"

"You'd be lying if you said that." Mello pushed himself away into the the middle the the room, leaving an even wider space I wished to close. "And I don't want to hear you trying to comfort me. I hate comfort."

Comfort brings relief and cheer. I don't think he could have possibly experienced comfort, if it was a good thing he was disliking. Humans enjoy feeling good. "Hate comfort?"

"I don't want it, because I don't deserve it. I want to suffer."

"This is not meant to comfort you, but I did not _fear_ you hurting me." I want him to know. Thinking that he was going to hurt me—it might have come across my mind as a fact of life, but I never worried over it. "If it makes you feel better, or worse, you can suffer over me sounding like I'm comforting you, which would make you suffer even more. Because that is what you wish. And you make it sound as if you'd suffer more under a comforting gesture than not. And I am helping you suffer. Or maybe this whole explanation is sufferable enough..."

I admit I don't really know what I'm saying. I find it all extremely...strained. Hard to breathe, quick palpitations, and of course there is that sort of heat burning all over. I feel like my own individual self right now. Not only a part of the scene, but something in it.

"Whatever you say," Mello turned back around, eyebrows together and wearing a humorless smile. "But, what _I'm_ trying to say is that, if you want me to leave you alone, I will. Because I've been a hot-headed ass since the beginning, and I've realized why, and my reasons were..._are_ stupid and childish."

"But, I asked to be friends. Why would I want you to leave me alone, Mello?" I hardly enjoy this distance we are maintaining now, let alone completely disregarding each other. That's exactly why I had approached in the first place. I wanted him to look at me again.

Mello was raking his hair, a look of pained concentration barely seen within the shadows of the dark room. He was speaking under his breath. "Excuse me?"

His words and arms fell still. Tense. Aware.

"Mello, I want for us to be friends..." I want for us to be something. Anything.

"I can't _just_ be friends! So, stop suggesting it." Mello cursed, kicking the chair next to him before retreating as far as possible to look out the window. "I can't compromise. It has to be everything or nothing."

What? "I...don't understand. What else is there?" If he doesn't want friendship, what else is there? Mello seemed in conflict. Shaking his head. Deep breaths. Quiet swears whispered, audible but not distinguishable.

"I apologize, but I honestly don't understand what you are trying to tell me."

"Figure it out yourself."

"Are you jealous?"

There was a cold, bark of a laugh. "Jealous? This isn't about grades if that's what you're asking."

"Is it me acting indifferent still?"

"_No_."

I feel like I'm trying to walk through quicksand. I keep trying to move forward, but instead I'm sinking. What does he mean? We can't be friends. All or nothing... No compromise... I can not help but feel helpless. I don't have experience in social situations! I don't even know how to properly distinguish my _own _feelings yet! Mello. Please. Be patient with me if I make mistakes.

"Everything." Mello's expression contorted in confusion and disbelief. I had to continue. I had so much I wanted him to know. "Mello, I do not think you understand. I don't understand it, so I do not think you do either. _Mello_. If you just forget about me—I won't care if I live or die. I wont deny I once may have been less than concerned with that subject, but recently I've been going through a very confusing—what I hope is a—developmental process. I do not want to not care. It is twisting, and tearing, and empty, and crushing. I do not wish to feel that way. I wish to stay with you." I want him to accept me. There is an attachment I rely on. However arbitrary it is, it's there. And my heart is still beating fast. And I feel as if I've said something full. My cheeks sting because of it. I don't know where all of this has come from. I have changed. When did I change? "Do you understand any of that? Mello, I don't know what it means to feel these thing, but that is how you make me..._feel_."

He continued to stare out the window, and the stinging in my cheeks spread across my face. "Are...my feelings enough?" I'm desperate.

I hear a thunk of head against window. A hiss of breath. The call of a bird outside just before the window is slid shut. Mello was being very careful now. Slowly with precise and calculated movement. He looked to me. I can't see his expression anymore, but his eyes glow. I almost feel very vulnerable. He's walking and I can't move. It's as if my own words have wrapped themselves around me—rooting me in place.

"Near." He stood there now, with that same painfully small distance not breached. I looked up. Could he see what I was feeling? I feel as if it is all written out in plain sight. Still binding me in place. He's just standing there. Watching me. Reading me. I want to look away. But I don't. And I wait.

His hands came up, holding my face. I remember this touch and this skin. The same warmth and maybe the only thing that doesn't feel foreign in this rapidly anxiety-educing moment. I felt a little less tense than before. Less tense, but still unable to react. I've never seen such a smoldering blue as he gazed down at me— Suddenly, the color was neatly tucked behind closed eyelids. Why—

While I was definitely over-analyzing the situation, Mello was able to surprise me with a quick stoop and a bonding of lips.

...I was definitely overcome by the situation. As I could feel pleasant things blooming inside myself, Mello held my head whichever way he pleased as we remained joint. I've never been this close. His eyes were open now. Eyes that look to have touched the sky, and have seen the darkness beyond. No fear... How long had it been? Panic rose inside and I pulled away. Mello didn't react though, and I found myself staring at the floor. My cheeks hurt...burning. I have some sort of fever.

"I...might be contagious..." I said in a whisper.

"What?"

"I feel sick. Or...feverish..." I mumbled stupidly. "I..."

"_What?_"

"I..." my head fell into my hands. "I..."

I do not know. And...fear. Of the unknown. Maybe it would have been better if this... But—it's too late. And...I like—but. It's not...

"I...need to walk myself back to my room. Good night." I bowed deeply, suddenly the urge to escape was too much. I hope he didn't mind my exit. It must have looked bad. I just ran away... There had been no better comfort than my bed that night. How had it gotten that far? What has _happened _to me? I'm wired towards feeling now...I even had my first dream.

* * *

I'm not sure what dreams are supposed to be like. I've done light reading on the subject—but I really don't know that much on what dreams are actually like. It's hard to remember...and that's frustrating because it feels as if it happened only a second ago. I was in bed for hours after waking up. Trying to remember that dream. I remember parts. It was raining. And I was in that spot amongst the trees...the place from earlier. It was almost a memory—but that's where it ends. Creole wasn't there. Nor Matt. Mello... I want to say he was there. If he wasn't, I know I would have wanted him to be. But, I don't remember as I've said before. And I have _tried_ to remember.

The blankets weren't even on the bed this morning. No nest. They were on the floor while I slept free of their warmth. I didn't like waking up like that. Cold. I leaned over and dragged the sheets back up, wrapping myself into a ball of white comfort. I considered doing my morning routine. No. I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to face anyone.

I didn't want to face anyone...but most of all, I really didn't feel like confronting myself. There is a heavy weight on me now, and it is absolutely a distress. I don't want to confront these...changes. I wish to fall asleep, and to have no dreams whatsoever. I want to go back. I'm not ready.

I'm not ready. I'm not ready. I'm not ready.

I wasn't ready. I had to first to my daily routine.

Begrudgingly, I got myself out of bed to face the new day. I turn the lights on, changed my clothes, and set the sheets straight. Done. Now, what? Maybe, I could visit the library. Take a stroll outside? Maybe—maybe I'm avoiding what I really kind of already wanted to do. Which is strange. I am trying to hide things from myself, kind of acting oblivious to what I am really thinking. And there isn't even really anyone around to act out for. Ugh. Also, since when have I become so uncertain? There really are a lot of "maybe"s in my vocabulary. I don't know anything, do I?

I pushed into the dark hallway, still acting like I didn't know what I wanted to do. I wouldn't allow myself to do what I wanted. I couldn't bring myself to. So...I sat down in front of my door, waiting. Waiting for what? I don't know... Oh. There I go acting to myself again. I am a natural theater performer with all the acting I have been participating in this morning.

I sat against my door as time forged onwards, not taking any pity on someone with troubles and who needs time to think. I did get a few peculiar looks from the boys passing, but I realize that their confusion and curiosity stems from my own peculiar position against my door. Do you see that? There was no need to analyze the situation. I just knew. I only wish that that same power would come to me as I try to figure myself out.

"What are you doing?"

Matt crouched down next to me, eyes much to fresh and bright for this morning. I nodded in greeting though, more grateful at his appearance than disgruntled about his cheery wide-eyed stare on a day where it was not cheery.

"Matt..."

"Near?" He arched his bow.

Can I talk with you? "..."

"Hm? I didn't hear that."

Can you help me just a bit? I don't know what to do. "..."

Matt huffed, taking a seat next to me. "I can't hear you, Near. Speak up!" He grinned and nudged my shoulder while I cringed at his chipper tone. I looked around the hallway. Not out here.

"Inside..."

I brought my arm back and twisted the door handle. Scooting inside, I waited for Matt to follow. I'm glad he did. He shut the door.

"What's up?" Matt remained on the floor, watching half-amusedly.

"We are friends."

His eyebrows rose again. "Yeah?"

"Was that in conformation or questioningly?"

"Both?"

"Um, would you then say we could talk to each other? If I had to talk to you?"

"Sure."

"I had to ask, because I really don't know how to utilize "friendship". I am not even sure I know what it is. Though I _do _know friends are defined as: a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. Though I do _not _know how that translates into real interaction, which led to this very dilemma. ...And also to this very pointless explanation. I apologize. I really am in a state of apprehension right now, and it is hard to wrap my head around the things I seem to be doing."

"I see... What's wrong then?"

"What is wrong?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah. What's wrong?"

"I didn't say anything was wrong." I quickly revisited our conversation. No. I didn't say anything was wrong.

"Are you saying there _isn't_?"

"Well. Not necessarily. I simply am having some...inner turmoil. Nothing exactly wrong."

"Inner...turmoil..." he said each word as if he must sound it out before understanding. I wish he would just get to saying something to make me feel better. "What...is causing that?"

What is causing it? "I don't know. Suddenly, I am feeling, and it is terrible. I don't have any idea what I am doing anymore. The things I've done...like...last night. Yesterday...the day before. And even before that..."

Suddenly there wasn't enough air to finish the sentence. I allowed it to pitter off, not feeling healthy enough to finish the thought. Matt frowned.

"...yesterday?"

I nodded. Yesterday. What happened yesterday was all because of these feelings that I can't control. Even my very own mannerisms have been affected. I am no longer the me I used to know.

"What happened yesterday?"

"I don't want to talk about it..." But I do. "I'm just..." Scared. "I don't want to be alone. Excuse me. I've been rude for keeping you..."

"No, no, no..." Matt sat more definitely, crossing his legs. "I can see you're feeling...something. Um, let me help you though it. I'm no counselor, but sometimes you can just talk it off your chest."

What? "How did you know it felt like something was on my chest? Have you felt it too?"

"Uh..." Matt smiled awkwardly. "No. Sorry. I was just saying that..."

Oh.

"So. Tell me what's wrong then."

"I don't understand. I'm feeling things... and I don't understand."

"Which is the bad part, the feeling or the not understanding?"

"Well, if I could only _understand _the feeling..."

Matt shook his head. "Sorry. Not gonna happen."

I looked up in confusion. Was he serious? Matt shook his head, still half-amused yet also grim. What was this? So, there was...

"What do you mean?"

He messaged his feet, shrugging. "Noone ever understands."

"Why?"

"You can't understand something so ambiguous..."

"Why not?"

"Too many exceptions."

"So? There are exceptions in subjects like science, and arithmetic and _they _still have some sort of rules."

"It's not the same."

There came the sinking feeling again. "But, why _not?_"

"We're human. Each and every one of us is a walking exception."

No. But it wasn't that way before. I never was this way before...

I absently played with my shirt hem as I felt the swell of emotions inside, writhing around like snakes.

"How do you live this way? How can you stand to not understand?"

Matt shrugged, standing up and opening the door. "I guess...I just accept that I don't understand. I do whatever I think is right, and I try to be the happiest that I can manage."

"How?"

"I do what I like. Play games. Hang with friends. Read a book. Whatever I feel like doing." Matt gave a sympathetic smile. "That's probably what you should do too. So, what you feel like doing?"

"I...haven't figured that out." More acting. At the least, I have an audience this time.

"Near...I'm sorry if I couldn't give you the answers you wanted. Um, but I'm okay with it if you still have things you want to talk to me about. I have to leave for now. I can be back after I'm done talking with a teacher about a recent assignment..."

"No. Thank you. I won't bother you anymore today. I have things to do as well..."

* * *

**I HAD to end it here. In my document, I had exactly 16666 characters. I couldn't BEAR to make any changes.**

**Yeah. So all that happened. More to come?**

**Yeah, probably. Review PLEASE~ **


	12. Silk Pajamas

**Characters are a _mother_ to deal with. Mello was essentially giving me NOTHING to work with... but I made it work.**

**This story sure has had a turn-around...don't worry, just read ^u^**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Silk Pajamas**

Things to do? That was an exaggeration. I most certainly had absolutely nothing to do with myself whatsoever. After Matt left, any motivation he was able to still quickly surrendered to the fast paced beating in my chest. At first, I thought I was meant to confront Mello. That was not possible, because the thought alone was paralyzing. No. I had to think things over. Be logical. There's is nothing extremely threatening about their next inevitable meeting. It was impossible to think that one could _avoid _Mello when schedules had you cross paths day-to-day. Not that I wanted to avoid him. Only temporarily be free from his...distraction. I didn't leave my room again. Crawling into bed. Under the covers. Wrapping myself in something solid. Something I could understand. For am moment, the thought I might be able to reverse it all. Forget emotions. Forget friends. Forget Mello. I thought, if I would just try, I could go back to something stable. No. I already understand that I was not stable. I was numb. A condition that I never called upon in the first place, and left me with no way to return. I wrapped myself up tighter. Almost suffocating. Taking in deep breaths of fabric softener. Breathe. This was something I could control. In. _Out_. In. _Out_. In my nest, I plucked away thoughts. Desperate for an escape. Tired of the uncertainty. No. The emptiness did not evoke sleep. It was a vacuum. More room for worry. More room for doubt. And some other feelings as well. Like, that feverish feeling. I don't know. I drifted asleep sometime during all the chaos...clutching at the fabric that now was what held together my solidarity.

Sleep was pleasant. It was reassuring to wake up right where I had left. Surrounded, and guarded by a wall of sheet. Muscles lax, heart rate level. I breathed slowly, making a schedule of what needed to be done. Laundry was covered. My upcoming assignment was already written and completed. I missed any morning classes. Wiggling out of the folds of comfort, I scanned the room. Two wooden solders stood at attention on the windowsill. Hm. Struggling a bit more, I freed myself completely. Then, leaning as far as I could, I managed to scoop both up and bring them onto bed with me. At eye level, I held the two solders. The one at the right wore a blue suit—brown hair parted to the left, dotted eyes, and a pencil-drawn smile. The one at the left wore a red suit—blonde hair parted to the right,dotted eyes, and a pencil-drawn smile. Both came from the same set, each belonging to a squad of identical solders. Absently, I clicked their heads together as I thought. The pack inaccurate. I turned the red solder over in my hand, eying the lifeless yet smiling expression. They all held the same unnatural quality. Gayly smiling solder men. Hm. It is hardly reasonable to think that belonging to one side or the other transforms one into a drone identical with those of similar position of belief. One is not suddenly either a red solder with blonde hair, or a blue solder with brown hair. Not unless this was some sort of metaphor representing the fact that during times of war everyone is forced to view the opposing side not as individuals, but as a massive opposing force made of collective parts. Thinking again, it is improbable that a preschool toy was created with such a thought in mind, therefore it remains exactly what it is. A toy.

Playing with toys is something I used to do. Not for fun, but as something to do. Matt's instructions were to do as I felt like. _Hm. _I allowed the solders freedom, dropping them to the floor. There is no sufficient distraction, is there? I want to understand. There has to be a way. I can't just...not know. Rolling over to my back I continued playing with the ideas in my head. There has to be a code. Rules. A standard. Matt said it's too ambiguous, but that can't be the answer. The looked at the solders, lying on the ground. Was I being a hypocrite? Wasn't it the same? Yes, they all are emotions. Yet, everyone is personalized. Something like happiness isn't covered by a pencil-drawn smile. No, happiness can be more than that. Happiness isn't just an emotion. It is many things.

I breathed out a heavy breath of air. I don't _know... _Apprehension. This crushing feeling. Hesitance. Confusion. What a miserable set of feelings to preview whilst being indicated into humanity. I will see him though. Yes. That is what I want—that is what I will do...

I didn't need to watch were I was going. I could manage to find my way no matter if I lost all my physical senses. The wooden floor passed as if it had a mid of it's own. As if it were guiding me instead of the very legs which carried me. The floor stopped. A door like any other. Yet, it was surely his.

"Mello," I called quietly. I had not meant for my words to fade so readily, yet there was suddenly a strain on my vocals as I anticipated his appearance.

The door opened. I forced myself to look. He wasn't smiling. I am actually glad for that. At the least, I wasn't the only one feeling less like smiling. As if I've had any experience yet that has granted me such a countenance. Mello held the door open, leaning against the frame and staring slightly above my head. "Mello."

His eyes flicked down in acknowledgment, then snapped back to place just over my head. He wasn't inviting me inside... Well, I suppose it won't be that easy then. Though, I successfully came to that conclusion long before now.

"I have something I want to talk about. If you're willing...please."

He pushed the door, allowing it to swing open as he rolled himself back inside. I followed, closing the door once inside. That action alone made it seem final. I caught him looking over from the pile of books he'd decided to occupy himself with. Part of me wanted to run away. Another part was ready to stand at attention like a mindless toy solder. Mello steadily flipped the pages to his book. He had to be feeling too. Of course he was. This was the one who was able to catch and captivate me from the beginning. He's the one who prompted curiosity. He's the one who enabled feeling in me. Where do I begin?

"I—"

"I'll punch you if you start talking about wanting to die again."

_What?_ Mello scowled at the book in front of him. "I swear, I'll beat that nonsense out of you."

I didn't really know what to say. Was he...mad at me? Or not?

"I wanted to say that yesterday," Mello sighed. "But then, you know what I did _instead_..."

Mello dropped the book back down onto the pile before him, still not making eye contact. "For a long time, I've wanted things from you that a guy shouldn't want from another guy. I blamed you for it, because you had ruined everything _else_ in my life...or really, I had convinced myself you had. I was trying to make you understand yesterday. I thought, if I only told you what I actually felt, you would finally run away. If you knew how much I _wanted you_, you would leave me alone."

Mello had stopped turning pages now, gripping the book with white knuckles.

"I gave you the choice, all or nothing...and then you agreed. I couldn't believe it. Then, to make it worse, you started spewing crap about dying! I was so _pissed! _I was going to say so. But then you asked... are my feelings enough?" Mello looked at me, eyes a picture of internal conflict. "Are my feelings _enough_? Do you even know how much that made me...to hear you say something like that?"

I shook my head, speechless in such a situation. Mello closed the book, giving up on whatever he was doing with it in the first place.

"I was going to yell at you...but to hear you say _that,_ I couldn't stop myself. You've never shown emotion towards anything, anyone, no matter what I did—and now you're asking if your feelings are enough?" Mello approached quickly, grasping my shoulders. I couldn't breathe for a moment. I thought that maybe he would do something more... He didn't. Only squeezing firmly. His head was dropped down, with hair acting as a barrier. "I hate telling you this..."

I became more and more conscious of my heart beating at the sound of this voice. Like...an ashamed child who was being chided to admit they are supposed to share their toys. "...because I would never talk like this. I never care if others understand why. I do what I _want_... Not anymore. I can't risk you not understanding. I can't risk acting on only what_ I_ want... So, I'm forced to say these things!"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." I stopped breathing again as I was pulling into his arms. I couldn't move. At the mercy of my own paralysis again. There was the sound of the doorknob wiggling, and after, extra light from the hallway spilled in. Mello was gently pushing me now. Out the door. Free from my spell, I looked over my shoulder to see out. He hadn't been trying to get close. He was only opening the door... I looked back at Mello. Eyes lowered and mouth grim, he continued trying to lead me out. Impulsively, I grabbed his upper arms for support. His gazed twitched upwards at the touch, but he still pressed further.

"_Mello,_" I had gained a voice. "Mello, do not have me leave..."

"You don't understand yet..."

"Mello, no." I gently resisted the backward motion, gripping him tighter.

"You don't understand..."

"Mello, stop it. I don't want to leave."

Mello was pressing harder. "I want you to leave. Trust me. You'll want to leave too."

"You do not have that ability. The ability to read minds." I tried pushing back a little more.

"Call it an educated guess then." He pushed back.

"Based on what knowledge or evidence?"

"Based on the knowledge of myself, and the evidence of your lack of understanding."

"I am willing to learn."

"This is different. You _won't_—"

I took to making myself immovable to his gentle prodding, making him stop and stand straight. I stared into his eyes, hoping that as he looked back he would see something as deep and emotion ridden as I was. I wanted him to see that I was not a doll, a toy, a mask, a fake. I wanted him to that I am human. Just like him.

"I want _you_ to understand, Mello. You are not feeling things one-sidedly. I trust that whatever comes along with those feelings are...normal." Suddenly, there was this unnatural creeping on my face. Gradually, my face was lightening up. I felt...happy. I just called myself normal. I've never felt normal. I feel...happy. And normal.

Mello's eyebrows had raised high as he watched, but then relaxed back down as his mouth at one side quirked upright. Maybe, I was doing something like that too. Maybe, I was...smiling. Freely, and without even thinking about it—I was smiling.

"Mello...you understand, don't you? You make me happy, and I'd like to be with you."

The smile was gone as Mello started to cough.

"Hm?"

Mello looked over the hand he held in front of his mouth. "What did you mean by, _"be with you"_?"

"Whatever that implies at the time. Specifically and at this time, I wish not to be forced out of your room."

Mello was a little more..._pink _than usual. "It's going to be dark soon."

"I've slept over before."

"Those were entirely different circumstances for us both."

Hm? "Because of our mutual feelings? Hadn't you said you've wanted me for a long time? Even before the last time I stayed over, right?"

"I never _said that_."

"So, you _didn't_ like me before then? That is not a long amount of time at all."

"Never mind," Mello looked above my head, and back down. "Just get inside, so we're not caught talking like this out where everyone can hear what isn't their business."

I was allowed back inside, Mello promptly closing the door. Then, he turned back to face me.

"Could you make this easier on me, and tell me exactly what you want? I'm getting kind of bothered between what you might mean and what you actually mean."

"I want to be with you."

Mello pressed his lips into a firm line. "Like...how we are now? Or like...more..."

"..."

"...physical."

Oh. Right. Coupling does go along with some sort of...physical relationship. At times, I still forget the colloquial meanings of certain phrases. There is a difference between 'be with' and _'be with'_, apparently. Oh... the suggestion is not leaving my head now. Branded into my brain, and permanently replacing my previous thoughts. Too many thoughts, and I quickly became very conscious of my surroundings and my company. Mello was still waiting.

"Well..." my voice was slurring into silence. "I guess... Something like that... It is okay..."

"Like what?"

I was feeling feverish again. "Like...physical."

I could hear the inhale of breath. Mello looked more hesitant than ever.

"I'm sorry. Is that...unappealing to you?"

Mello shook his head. "No... I just... don't think you know what you're asking for."

"I know very well what physical means."

Mello made a small grimace, which was off-putting at the least. "Okay, but I will only return what I receive. So, I know what you're okay with."

What? I...I am the one who has to initiate? Mello didn't look very comfortable either. It was this tension. What do I do? ...I must go like Mello had last time. I looked up at Mello. I can't. He's too tall; I can't reach. Carefully, I tugged him downwards by his collar. He moved easily, and soon there was no excuse. I slowly leaned forward, fighting every cell that burned in my body. It still was shocking when we made contact. I pulled back immediately. Mello didn't move, watching with curiosity.

"...there. I told you that it was fine." I wish It sounded more like a fact, and less like a guess.

"So that's it."

"Yes. It's okay to be physical this way..."

His brow furrowed slightly as he smiled again. "I get it."

I was not expecting another kiss so suddenly, and it was luckily just another peck, or else I am not sure if I could handle the burning it brings on. Mello then placed a hand on my head, running through the hairs.

"So, you plan to sleep over?"

I nodded.

"That's fine, but I get to used the bed tonight. I remember last time you stole it, and I ended up having to sleep at my desk."

"I'm sorry... I'll take the floor."

"No, no, no. You'll sleep together with me."

"...I will? The beds aren't very roomy you know."

"I don't care." Mello straitened up, going over to his dresser. "If you need to, you can go get your night clothes, or whatever..."

I stood rooted in place. Night clothes? I usually slept in the day's clothes... Was that a strange practice? I've never had something like pajamas.

Mello froze for a moment too, looking me over. "Don't tell me...you sleep _nude._"

_Nude? _What would make him think that? Is _that _a normal practice? Well. It seems like it would be plenty comfortable. It's always too hot... And I _do _like the feeling of the sheets... It doesn't seem like a horrible idea, but why would he bring that up _now? _With that line of thought... never mind. "No, I do not. I sleep in my clothes."

"Borrow a pair of mine then."

I barely caught the silky fabric. Dark grey with black stripes. While play with the smooth, and cool texture between my fingers, Mello had already halfway dressed. "Get them on, because lights-out is gonna be soon," he commented while starting to button up his own dark green, silky nightshirt.

I like the touch of this. The fabric almost falls out of my hands. I unfastened my own shirt, sliding on the new article. It was so slippery. I rubbed the fabric against my arms, savoring the gentle touch. I liked it. Looking forward to more, I went on to replace my pants with the silky bottoms. More of the pleasant stimulation, I pet the fabric on my thighs.

"What are you doing?"

I looked over at Mello who was standing my the light switch. I stopped the circular motions, putting my hands straight at my sides. "I enjoy these."

Mello was raising an eyebrow. "Maybe a little too much..."

"Sufficiently."

"Sure. Well, the lights are out now. I'm not saying you have to go to bed, but it late, and _I _am."

He flicked the switch, and then it was only the twilight as a way to see. Mello padded over to his bed, crawling on and settling close to the wall. Plenty of room for me. I wasn't going to spend the night up alone, so I shuffled over to lie beside him. I wiggled a bit in the pajamas, still craving the sliding sensation. I brought a sleeve up to stroke my cheek, when suddenly there was the vague sent of chocolate. I brought my arm to my nose, inhaling deeply. Yes. It most definitely smelled of chocolate. It was familiarly the same sent Mello tended to waft. This less prominent though, as if it were buried deep in the fibers. I like that too. The same as the slick texture of his pajamas. Because, these _were _his. All while I tried to fall asleep, I enjoyed the sent and the friction as I rubbed my legs together. I hope I wasn't being too restless for Mello to sleep. Though he hadn't made any comment on the movement, so I took that to mean he'd already fallen asleep. I don't know when I could have fallen asleep...

* * *

I was still in bed, surrounded by the sent. Mello wasn't around, but right now that was okay. When I used to love the cool, slickness of the nightclothes, now they were hot. I couldn't take them off though. The only relief I could find was the friction, and small circles I rubbed into my arms and legs. But I couldn't do enough with just my hands. I squirmed around, trying to reach every part of my body, trying to make it go away. The relief was granted to all but one spot. No matter how much I rocked myself, I couldn't get the friction to reach, and cool myself down. I allowed one hand to slide down to immediately gratify. I could only sigh at the touch, rubbing in small circles. I like this touch if it weren't so hot... The clothes were growing even hotter now, prompting more violent rocking and squirming. It was growing progressive though, once I managed to begin the feeling of respite, the heat intensified. It was crawling into my throat. It was hot inside me. Everywhere. I could only manage to gulp a breath of air once in what felt like eternity. I needed help. I couldn't reach it all. Mello. _Mello. Mello, help me... _If only he were here. I want him to help me. I've never...felt...so...hot...

* * *

I woke up very early in the morning, not hot, but covered in sweat. It was still dark, and I wasn't alone anymore. I could feel the body beside me still pressed against the wall. It was only a dream. Though...something seemed to have carried over. Sliding off the bed, I could clearly feel a distinction between these pants from the ones I wore yesterday. Very damp. Uncomfortable. Awkwardly I handled the front, not sure what I should be doing now. I suppose...I really could go for a shower.

* * *

**Tsk, tisk... and Near doesn't even wear the underwears either.**

**I didn't plan for this either! Wasn't that a special surprise for us all!**

**Mello was asleep though? Hm, hm, hm.**


	13. Hatching Snakes

**Oh, I kinda sorta had this one finished for quite some time. I never got around to posting it I guess! I'm super sorry for late updates, but I'm sorta reaching that time in every fic's life where SOMETHING is gonna happen. I** **have to be concernicus with the (T) rating... **

* * *

**Chapter 13: Hatching Snakes**

"Where were you this morning?"

Mello sat in the chair to my side, chewing neatly on another bar of chocolate. The question had turned up more than once this morning, and its frequency was increasing. I appreciate the concern, if that really is what happens to be motivating him, but I would rather put it all behind myself. Never bring it up again. What happened was a mistake. Not to happen again. I'm sure.

I stared into my lap, watching my fingers. They were just laying there. Like little broken people, inanimate and lifeless. I stretched them open and allowed them to relax back into their crippled positions.

Mello tooka knee in front of my chair, tilting his head as if to get a better view. My eyes slid towards the bookcase. I wonder if there are any books there I haven't read. I've read a good deal of them...

"You'd left early. Anything wrong?"

Did I skip any of them? I'm nearly positive that I have read each volume in proper succession...

"Near."

It's not as if reading them all would be impossible. The selection is small and _nothing_ in comparison to the library...

"Near, did something happen?" Mello took hold of my face to catch the attention I was trying to deprive him. I pulled away, pinning my chin to my chest. I know I was acting like a child, and my lower lip pouted in disapproval of my own actions. If I wasn't careful, I might come off as...I don't know the proper word. I don't want him to think I am avoiding him or that I don't like him. It's only that...I have to figure out some things for myself.

"It is nothing to be concerned about. Your trepidations are for naught—"

Mello scowled. "I have every reason to be concerned. You're kind of my..."

"Because, I am your...?"

"Labels aren't important." Mello sat down cross-legged. He said nothing else, chewing idly while his eyes stalked mine. The attention was unusual and plentiful since he had found me on the way to breakfast. He was just _watching_. I imagine this feeling inhabiting me is something parallel to a creature in a zoo.

"Is there something fascinating about my face? It's not as if I don't realize your sudden interest."

Mello took another chocolatey bite, shaking his head in disagreement...or maybe only shaking his bangs out of his sight. Every movement he makes seems to be laden with cryptic meaning. It's unnerving—and he continues to watch.

"What?" I rubbed the back of my hand over my face. I presented it to him again, "Is it still there?"

Mello nodded.

I made another sweep over my face. "Better?"

His head shook again.

"What's wrong then?"

Mello didn't answer, nibbling on his chocolate, back to his stare.

"I am going to leave."

Mello shook his head.

"Why not?"

Another shake.

"Yes, I will. You have nothing to say, and you're staring is making me feel—feel... _uncomfortable_."

I dangled a leg down towards the floor. Mello caught hold before I was able to reach, and at the touch, my feet recoiled. I perched further back into my chair, questioning his obscure actions. He was acting strange. Not at all like he used to be. Never has he watched me so openly. Never has he touched me so casually. These actions were proving to be fuel to some sort of humming my whole body was doing. It was sort of ticklish. I think I like it though...

Mello went back to chewing, eyes never swaying. I can't stand this distraction. I can't think at all. Well—I _can_. Though, those thoughts are all limited towards Mello. How ridiculous. I know it, yet I don't care so much. I like the attention to an extent. I never was able to interact with Mello regularly, so that much is a new and pleasant experience. The issue is, there are things that come with this relationship that I cannot bare to think about in front of him. Where can I go? Somewhere I can be alone. If I am able get away at all...

"Mello-" I received an expectant look and froze. I had the intention to lie, but that was proving difficult. I didn't like it. I didn't want to lie. It made me feel...bad. I hugged my knees, shaking my head. "Never mind..."

The two of us sat in silence, watching each other. My guts were growing rotten from all the churning it was doing. I really could not explain the foreign feelings plaguing my body. Kids giggled, running past the doorway.

"Wait for me, guys!"

"Roger is coming! Run away!"

"Run away~!"

"Wait, I wanna come too!"

Mello's head snapped towards the hallway. He wasn't doing anything wrong, though perhaps it is a conditioned response. He rocked to his feet, sticking a head out the door. He looked back.

"I'm gonna take a short walk. I'll be back."

Mello slipped out, and I could not help but appreciate the timing. I escaped the room, heading in the opposite direction. There weren't going to be any comfortable places to hide. Not with Matt, nor Creole, and most definitely not in my own room. Not the common room. Not the library. The floors shook with the rumbling steps of children running through the halls. Spontaneity would be in my favor today, making my location more difficult to find if he chooses to search for me. It was best to walk until reaching a dead end.

"Have you seen Dhonner?"

I looked up, my gaze having been trained to the floor, to another resident of Wammys. A younger girl with plump cheeks and a choppy bob had stopped before me. I didn't know her name. I don't know how she knew me. I can't say I recognize her face, and I do not know anyone by the alias "Dhonner".

"I am sorry, I don't know who that is—I cannot help you."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "Well, he is kinda older..and his hair is yellowish. He has a really loud yell..." I watched as the girl struggled for the proper adjectives. "He is wearing a red shirt with an owl on it...and he is playing with the other boys."

"I apologize. I do not know the boy you are looking for."

"Are you sure? You didn't pass by him at all? He was running in this direction..."

No. I hadn't been doing it consciously, but I was avoiding contact with others. I still couldn't manage to walk through these halls without watching every step I took. I ignored everything outside of myself...Is there any way for me overcome this crippling defiance towards interaction? I shook my head a final time. "I'm sorry. I wish you luck finding him though."

The girl whose name I didn't know gave a small smile. "That's okay. Thanks anyway."

The chubby girl ran off, nothing left to say. I was tempted to contemplate my reaction to confrontation...I didn't have time. Every moment I wasn't hiding was another moment I might be discovered. First, I have things I need to think through.

In the end, my journey lead me to the laundry room. I didn't care to turn the lights on. Padding on bare feet, I aimed for the corner. Under the window. Between a hamper and a dryer. The little amount of light that streaked in illuminated particles that would swirl around with each breath I made. I curled up to watch them silently.

It feels nearly impossible to self-analyze nowadays. It isn't that I don't have the ability—it's that, that ability comes at a price. Complete honesty. That is more difficult while I am wanting to lie to myself. The feelings are ticklish though, and I don't want to share because I feel like I'd much rather do anything other than let someone else know that I'm like this. Feelings like, confusion and shame. Uncomfortable self-consciousness. It was easiest to try and forget it all for a moment... A fly buzzed in a circle around the floor. It was stuck on its back, helpless to anything that came upon it. I put a foot out, trying to squash the noise. Suddenly, it was upright again and flew out of reach. I leaned a head against the dryer, dissecting the smell of fabric softener from detergent. One was floral...the other, more of a powder. A hiss as a rinse cycle ended and a hum as a spinning cycle began. It was a nice temperature in here. Not too hot. Not too cold. I closed my eyes, listening to the washing mantra. It was numbing, and soon that's all I could concentrate on.

"Near?"

My eyes snapped open, automatically spotting Matt with an armload of clothes. The situation was as if walking into a bedroom to find a frog on the floor. At first he thinks, there's a frog on the floor. Confusion sets in as he asks, _why _is a frog on the floor? Then he questions his sanity, is the frog _real_? Making the proper observations he finds; yes, it _is _real. This is that exact situation played out in real life, never mind the detail about the frog. The parallel is, that Matt matched that confusion that would be over the hypothetical misplaced amphibian.

"Yes?"

Matt shifted his grip on the clothes. "What...are you doing over there?"

"Falling asleep. Or waking up. I'm not sure anymore."

"Oh." Matt walked over to the line of washers, flipping up the lid using a free pinky, and dumping in his armload. The lid slammed back down, as he simultaneously cranked the timer. A hiss of water started, and then silence occupied once again. Matt turned around, looking back as if to make sure I was still there. It was funny how bare he looked right now. A white t-shirt and grey shorts. A lot of skin that I normally didn't see. His typical eye-wear was missing too. A very plain looking Matt. He walked over, bare-footed, and crouched in front of me.

"You look tired."

"Do I?"

He confirmed with a nod.

"I see. Then I should try and get some rest..." But, what if I have another one of those dreams? The thought was enough to make me want to curl up and renounce a life of slumber. I wasn't going to be able to return the garments given to me. They did not wash well. Although, I can't say whether it was the silk or the stain that I failed in treating. Neither seemed to turn out well. I had shamefully thrown them out once I discovered my failure.

"Something keeping you up at night?" Matt continued, I suppose, turning this into a conversation.

"I wish. I don't want to sleep anymore. Resent results prove that never sleeping would be an easier solution to my problems."

Matt fell back to sit on his rear, crossing his legs and leaning to rest his head in his hands.

"What problems?"

"Sleeping problems. Could you not conclude that by my resistance to sleep?"

"Well, yeah," Matt smiled, scratching his head. "I meant, what kind of sleeping problems? It's obviously not that you _can't_ sleep. See? I can make connections."

Yes, he could. I knew that well enough. It is only that I am trying with high degree to avoid what might become of this conversation. Considering that I care, and I would at least label him as a warm colleague—I don't want him to think less of me. Along with the emotions being thrust upon me, I also have a growing sense of vulnerability. Nothing has changed. If I had been in the same situation with my past self, I would have thought nothing of what anyone thought. I can understand the silliness in trying to hide this, yet I can't resist hiding it besides the point.

"Near?"

"Dreams."

"Dreams? You mean, nightmares?"

I shook my head, "No. The dream itself was not frightening. The issue lies in its...growing intensity."

Matt waited, apparently for more of an explanation. I continued, "It's a situation that I've never experienced. I cannot control my very own body. I am an infant in matters such as this—I do not know what sort of practice I should take up to prevent...whatever might happen."

Matt raised his eyebrows and in an awed voice asked, "Whatever might happen then?"

He grinned suddenly, bringing contradiction to his query. Matt had not been in serious awe. He grinned some more, tilting his head. I didn't understand where his enjoyment stemmed from. Was he mocking me? That hardly seems appropriate when it is he who branded our 'friendship'.

"What is so entertaining? My troubles?"

Matt raised his hands in a passive gesture, "Don't get angry, Near. I was teasing you a bit, but I didn't mean to be _mean_. It's just that it's kind of funny seeing you act so uneasy."

"Why is that funny?"

"It's just weird. That's all. Funny weird."

"Is that even a thing?"

"Very much so. _So._ While you were tying your best to be vague, I can only imagine your problem. I told you, I'm your _friend. _Talk to me about any of your problems, and I'll listen with a helpful ear. It's not as if I have anything to do right now anyways," he nodded towards the washer. "I've taken a personal day."

He wasn't going to leave. Ugh, I'm exhausted from this already.

"My suspicion is that I...was victim to nocturnal emission."

"A wet—?"

"Yes, yes. We both don't need a clarification via colloquialisms. You understand perfectly well."

Matt nodded seriously for a moment, then suddenly whipped himself to face the opposite direction. He held his hands to his face, body shaking.

"Are you _laughing _at me?"

He shook his head, though the incriminating shaking did not cease.

"Yes, you _are_..."

Matt shook his head again, refusing to admit to the obvious laughter.

"I am not stupid, and this is not funny. _Matt_—"

His head leaned back as he released, gasping for air. The laughter was undeniably clear.

"I'm _sorry_!" He rolled back around, face pink with either mirth or from holding his breath for so long. "It's _funny. _How can you not think this is funny?"

"I'm regretting my choice to confide in you. I am hyper-sensitive to my own feelings nowadays...and I am able to feel offended."

"I've noticed." Matt rubbed his face viciously, as if he could rub away the smile plastered there.

"Have you had enough already?"

"Yeah, my face is cramping..."

I grimly awaited his recovery. I had been cautious to tell him, but I never expected this. I shouldn't have told him at all.

"It's just..." Matt strained to speak once again. "It's just that I never expected this. This is such a strangely normal problem. Not 'Am I human?', or 'I can't feel.' You're really going through a lot right now, aren't you?"

"Yes." And I don't know what to do about it, "What do I do?"

Matt returned to his cross-legged position, raising his eyebrows. "What do you _do_?"

"How do I prevent it?"

"..."

"Do you know?"

Matt gave a shrug. "What can I say? Shit happens."

"What?"

"I mean...what can you do? Nothing. It's a thing of life."

"Nothing?"

"Unless you believe in crushing the serpent's eggs before they're hatched."

"..."

"Like...getting the job done yourself," he paused for a moment. "Well, I guess unless you've got the special sort of relationship with someone else. Then you don't have to be by yourself, per se."

He was so boldly suggesting that I— "I've never done..."

"I expected as much," Matt said, swiftly standing straight. "I can't help you with that one either. That's best left for you to discover yourself."

"Are you leaving?"

"Nah. Just checking on the unmentionables," Matt opened the lid, shaking his head. "I knew it, but I can't help but check anyway."

He returned to sit in front of me again. Was he still planning on having this conversation? That look in his eyes said yes. That kind of glitter that spoke of curiosity.

"So."

There he goes.

"Who or what were you dreaming about?"

"Why?"

"It's my disgusting and intrusive brain. It really wants to know."

I briefly revisited the situation. An immediate flush as the idea bloomed fantastically. No. No. No. I need to shut down these thoughts right _now_. "I can't talk about it."

Matt raised his hands passively once again, "Alright. Just asking."

"You haven't seen Mello, have you?"

"Was it _him_?"

Ah...

"That guy is damned luckiest guy on earth...it is un-_fucking_-believable," Matt ranted, eyes widening as if his discovery were the most rare and priceless thing imaginable. "I could tell he... but, I never thought it'd happen! No one ever could have seen this! Of all the people— it makes no _sense_!"

Matt leapt up again, continuing his outburst, "I had been worried about him, ya'know? Like, I was seriously worried that he might snap and just outright start murdering people. Don't ever tell him I said that—but it's true. He was becoming obsessed, and I thought he might try to hurt you. That's kinda my reasoning for checking up on you. I didn't want him to become that guy. But, I see it now— It's mutual?"

Ah...

Matt settled down. "Sorry. I'm definitely not like this, usually. Not when it comes to people. But, I really am relieved is all. That you both can get along."

His hand reached down, as if to pull me to my feet. I allowed it and stood upright. Matt had a hand on my shoulder and a slight smile. "I hope that you'll understand how much he's grown to care about you."

Not until now had I questioned it. How? When did he ever get the chance to develop feelings? Our past together had been nothing but conflict. Mello had said it himself, he had _hated _me. Yet also...cared for a great deal of time? Which was it?

"Have you seen Mello?"

"No. I haven't."

I know he said he hates having to tell me these things. But, I need to know. What _is_ it? His feelings...my feelings. We both should know. What if I get distracted though? I had left him—what if he's angry? Where is he? Back to his own room already? I left, forgetting the traditional goodbye—I don't think Matt minded too much though.

* * *

**Happy day! This fic is totally on the way into the station. Not much rail left. I hope you're all liking it! And thank ya for supporting and sticking around!**


	14. Technically Alive

**An extra long chapter for all my lovely followers! I ignored my homework for you guys! (You're welcome!)**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Technically Alive**

I looked around. I was hesitant to find him at first—I had a guilty conscious of having left him without his knowing. I was less walking, and more creeping. Peeking around corners before turning and knocking on doors before entering. I had assumed he would have returned back to his own room after seeing that I wasn't where he'd left me. I had knocked so gently, that the sound hardly reached my own ears. I gradually increased its volume, wishing that he would at last, open the door. My knocking was only catalyst to the growing tumult in my chest and head. Finally, after what felt like hours condensed into the length of a minute, I persuaded myself to open the door. He wasn't there. The lights were off, and the scape untouched by human life. I chided myself for the apprehension I had felt, only to receive such conclusion. I then started to comb through the usual places, less worried and more anxious about meeting him. I checked into the common room, walking over to a bookcase. I plucked out a navy-bound book, opening it somewhere near the middle. Pusillanimous \pyoo-suh-LAN-uh-muhs\ , adjective: Lacking in courage and resolution; contemptibly fearful; cowardly. I turned my head to look at the rest of the room. Mello wasn't there either. I slid the dictionary back into place, walking back into the hallway. I traveled to the library next. I spent quite a while, wondering amongst the shelves, never feeling satisfied as I went around. I don't know the chances of it happening, but what if we are just nearly missing each other? What if we are both in the library, but as we look for each other the shelves are placed just so we cannot see each other? I approached the same student teacher that would monitor every day. Her nose was nearly pressed against the paper she was writing on. Small, precise, little loops of cursive. She didn't notice my presence, and I decided not to bother her until she found time to notice on her own. While constructing another long string of loops, her eyes shifted upwards, probably out of habit. The loop she'd been in the process of making became a long dash of ink across the paper as her head followed her eyes to see me. I apologized for surprising her, and she told me it was alright. I asked if she had seen Mello enter the library at all today. Her eyes widened, eyebrows raising as she put up a weak smile. She hadn't been looking, but she didn't think she had. I left after she gave her word to keep and eye out. I passed by the boys rooms again. I looked inside Matt's room. He wasn't there. I looked in my own room—it was really the only other room I was able to check. And all the while, I would look out the window. I hoped to maybe see him pass by. To see him and a group of children playing. They weren't out today though. It was the transition of fall into winter. Not until there was snow on the ground would there be much to do outside. The summer was long gone. I wandered though the halls wondering. I looked out the window, and stopped. When had all the leaves fallen? They were all bare... How much time had passed? Since the very beginning—only the end of a summer, and all the fall. Things have changed so much. So much.

I entered the room where I had last saw Mello. He sat by the bookshelf, paging through a used paperback of Homer's Iliad. He was draped comfortably in the seat, leaning into one corner of the backrest, legs hanging over the armrest. I was kind of...shocked into stupidity. I didn't know what to say. He'd been waiting here the whole time? I felt so stupid. I really wanted to blame him for all the trouble I was going through. It would be so nice to blame him for everything. I wanted to blame him, and be...angry. But I also didn't. I was happy to see him.

Mello looked at me, slowly lowering the book. His legs slid off the armrest and onto the floor. He didn't care to mark the page he was on, he simply laid it on the seat next to him. He didn't look angry. He looked almost happy.

"You came back?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I'm glad. I mean...I wasn't really sure what to do when I saw you were gone. I wanted to go find you, but then I thought maybe you didn't want to see me? I didn't know what to do, so I sat down and hoped that you would come back."

Mello gave a casual smile. No teeth showing, just an upward curve to show satisfaction in the situation. It was like...he liked me. It was weird to think so now, after going through so much, but the realization struck me with an odd suddenness. Though, it felt like that now. Like he'd shed all gloom and doubt that he had for me—cast it off and was happy.

"When did you ever get the chance to grow to feel towards me? You hated me, and yet you cared for me?"

"This again?" Mello stood up, crossing his arms. "I've told you already."

"But...I don't understand. Hate and love are different."

"Not so much... it is really easy to hate someone you like. The thing is, that hate always wears off, and you get more mad at yourself for not being able to stay mad."

"Is that so..."

"It is so."

"That is it."

"You expected more?" Mello walked so there was only a body's length between us, arms still crossed.

"I don't know. I guess I didn't know what to expect." I was staring at our feet, unsure of what I should be doing.

"What about you?"

I looked up at the immediate addressal. Mello had raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly.

"What about you, Near? What the hell is _your _reason for liking me, since we keep coming back to the subject anyway."

What? My reason? "I...don't know. I didn't at first. I was only interested in why you acted the way you did...it escalated from there."

I couldn't pinpoint a exact moment. It wasn't from the moment we had kissed. It had to have been before that, or I most likely wouldn't have allowed it. I can't say when...but sometime along the way. How _did _it happen?

Mello smiled with mischief. "What do you like about me then?"

Like about him? I frowned, thinking it over.

"Ah—I was only teasing. You don't have to take it so seriously..."

"I've had a recent attraction to your eyes," I stated.

Mello's mouth hung open a little, surprised.

"That's only a small part though...I do like other things too."

"Oh."

Mello had lowered his arms, standing straight and looking at me. I stared at his left hand now. I was kind of out of conversation material. My last remarks had taken more of an effort to say than I had expected. They had bumbled past my lips in barely a murmur. The atmosphere was uncomfortable again. Mello had lost his little smile and was staring somewhere past my head. I don't think either of us knew what to do next. I wished for someone to conveniently walk in and save the day. They didn't come though. We both stood silent. I struggled to figure what the next move would be. I sifted through the thoughts in my head. Nothing. I was thoughtless. Stuck in an unusual suspension of reality and a dream.

"Near?"

I looked up at Mello.

"Where were you this morning?"

It seemed only like an attempt at normal conversation, yet inconveniently it was a conversation I didn't wish to have. "This...morning?"

"Yeah."

"I...had to shower."

"You had to shower?"

"Yes. And I hope that is is alright with you if I cannot return the clothes you lent me..."

"The clothes? You mean those pajamas?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Why? "Because..." How was I meant to explain? It was because... "Just because."

"Just because?"

"Just because."

"Really, just because?"

"Not just _because_...I just don't want to say so."

"Why?"

"I don't want to say..."

"You are surprisingly shy for how apathetic you used to be."

I grimaced. Yes. I can appreciate my old ability to tell simply what I meant.

"I wrecked them."

"How?"

"I don't know. I had a dream...not a bad one. But the product of that dream resulted in your ruined clothes."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm sorry—I've never...so I didn't know what to do. I tried to fix it. I failed..." My face was increasing in temperature. It was probably noticeable. He could probably tell by know what that meant. For some reason, that agitated my insides more than it should have.

"Don't worry about it." Mello crossed his arms again, not making eye contact. "They weren't that special..."

The conversation puttered to a stop. We could have spent forever trying to explain things in words...and I imagined we'd still end up in the same place. It's hard to try and label. Labels are useless unless it is something concrete. I don't think it is fair to confuse people with feelings being labeled. That is my problem. I try to label things, like feelings, when a label doesn't work. Word just don't do the actual feelings justice. To say, "mad" is only a cardboard definition. You don't feel mad, just by hearing the word. You have to experience it. I can't say what I was feeling...but it was something that made me lean up. It made me put my lips on his, because that is what I wanted to do. It was only a moment, though. I can hardly stand to be in that position for long...

Mello's eyes were a bit wider than usual. Then again, I was acting less than usual. I'm glad I wasn't the only one who was surprised. Though, he recovered faster than I. Mello came very close. Another kiss, very soft and laced with caution. As if he were ready to pull away at any moment. I didn't like that. I don't want him to be so anxious to leave. I held onto his back, trying keep close. It was warm. I took a breath through my nose, inhaling the sent of clean hair and...chocolate. The next vision bloomed in my brain, a vivid memory played within a fraction of a second. My eyes opened to make sure I was where I had left myself, and I pulled away. Mello stood frozen, not daring to move. I felt a fever that was too familiar. Was this going to happen every time we were close? Would it always end like this then?

"It's nothing you've done," I tried to explain. "I just... I can't."

He didn't move from his place on the floor. He straitened up, looking passive. "It's alright. I told you already, I won't do anything you aren't willing to do."

I'm not unwilling. I don't think my responses are necessarily negative, only that I cannot control them. I cannot control them, and I'm not sure exactly what to do with them. I looked toward the open doorway. "Is this the proper place to be engaging in...?"

Mello's eyes flickered towards the hallway. "I guess not."

He uprooted himself, walking out. I followed close behind, whether or not he wished me to or not was unknown, but I felt compelled to. After a few turns, I knew where we were headed. It was only a few moments before we both stopped in front of his room. I could decide not to enter. He was allowing me, if I wanted, to escape. There was no need to escape though. I waited patiently, however long it took him to understand.

I want to save this memory to myself though. So, I will stop here. I don't want to taint it with words—so I will remember it as it was, without explanation.

* * *

"You okay?" Matt asked, sitting in the desk next to me. That wasn't is assigned spot, yet assigned placement wasn't as enforced as strictly as it may have been in other institutions.

"I'm fair. Do you have a reason you're asking, or were you just being polite?"

"You look tired. Dreams still getting to you?"

"No."

"Really? You were making such a big deal about it yesterday."

"I was."

"So...nothing happened?"

"That conclusion is incorrect as well."

"What happened then? You look worn out."

"My time yesterday was spent on other things."

"Other things? What does_ that_ mean?"

"It means—" I was then witness as Matt was tipped onto the floor and replaced by a boy more blonde.

"Good day, Near." Mello said, making no acknowledgment of his other friend.

Matt grinned on the floor, sitting upright and hugging his knees. "Thanks a lot—I see how it is."

Mello looked down, "Oh. Matt, I'm sorry. I didn't see you down there."

"I'm sure that's true," Matt was able to hop back to his feet, standing casually with his hands in his seat pockets.

"So, what were you over here for anyway?"

"I was just talking to Near. I'm allowed to do that much, aren't I?"

"I don't know. I guess. Why would you ask me?"

Matt shrugged. "You used to get so...passionate, about keeping Near to yourself or something..."

"I did not."

"That's a fat lie."

Mello rolled his eyes, refusing to answer.

"So, things are better then? No more..." Matt did an exaggerated pantomime, twisting his face up, clawing that the air and gnashing his teeth. He broke into a smile afterward, looking with glassy green eyes. Mello sneered, only a moment before smiling back. They both had such an unusual relationship.

"Everything is fine, Matt," Mello insisted.

Matt raised his eyebrows, the arches disappearing into his bangs.

"Everything?"

Mello stood up, kicking the chair he'd been sitting on. "Yeah."

Matt nudged me in the shoulder. I looked up at them both, dazed and tired. "Hm?"

"You have to remember though, you still need to sleep," Matt reminded.

"I know that sleep is a necessity. I have not forgotten."

"Well, sometimes people need reminding. Sometimes it's easy to...disregard that for other things..."

"Matt, stop making such dramatic conclusions about our personal lives," Mello droned, crossing his arms.

"Don't act as though you've changed completely. When you're passionate about something, you tend to dedicate yourself to that thing, and that one thing only. Before every test, you study through the night, every night, for weeks. When you're pissed off, you beat the kid until you're forcefully restrained. I can only pity over what Near might have to go through."

It wasn't as if I weren't there. "I am treated very well. There hasn't been anything I have had trouble with—Mello is very gentle."

Mello's eyes widened, and his face blushed as he began to cough. Matt laughed out loud, holding a hand over his mouth. I didn't understand the humor.

Mello punched Matt in the arm, "Shut up, he didn't mean it like that."

"Even if he _didn't—_"

"Why do you have to know everything, huh? I'm not asking about _your _personal life."

"I don't _have _a personal life!"

"You sure as hell _don't_. If you weren't burying you head in all those retarded games—"

"Hey. You don't need to go into defense mode, alright? I'm teasing. Teasing. That is something friends do. Take a chill pill."

Mello swallowed, looking at the ceiling.

"It's alright. I know how _sensitive _you are."

Mello glared at Matt through squinted eyes. Their interactions seemed so full of malice, yet it was underlined with sentiment. Matt smiled, and Mello quirked up the corner of his mouth. Sometimes I wonder if their arguments are all just an act. They get along so well.

Mello looked back to be now, smiling more slightly still. I recalled the night before, and suddenly became very focused on my desktop. He knew very well what I had been thinking. I felt his fingertips brush against the top of my head as he walked to the back of the room. Matt said a rushed goodbye, escaping the classroom just as the teacher entered.

* * *

"Un cœur aimant est le commencement de la connaissance."

"What is that?"

"Oh, I am just talking to myself... Near, you seem to be moving forward very much now," Creole commented, as we both sat across from each other in the library.

"Hm?"

"I mean...you do not seem nearly as...confused. As you had. It makes me suspect that something has changed?"

She already has guessed—she is only waiting for confirmation. I wonder where she had come across that knowledge?

"Yes..."

"Is it Mello?"

She already knew.

"Yes."

"I knew it. I _knew_ it. There was a certain...Je ne sais pas. I can't describe what I see. You both look healthy. Very!"

"Healthy?"

"Oui! You have color to you now! A lovely rouge in your cheeks."

"I do?"

"As my mémé said, 'Les joues roses font un coeur heureux.' Rosy cheeks are a happy heart!" Creole reached forward, grasping a hold of one of my hands. "You are happy, are you not?"

"I...am."

"I am so glad to have seen this part of you, Near."

What? I had been staring at our hands entwined together, and only did her voice draw my eyes away. Creole had buried her head in her arms. The voice was muffled.

"Creole?"

"Avant de vous quitter..."

"Creole?"

Creole took back her hands, covering her faced. Her hands twisted harshly around her eyes. A sniff.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Petit. I just am happy for you..."

"Those don't look like tears of happiness," I noted, seeing the reflective streaks.

Creole lowered her hands, eyes red. "Ah, there is nothing I can put past you now, I can tell."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing you should worry about, Petit. I am simply facing consequences of what I have done and throwing a fit over it. Tu vas me manquer," Creole rubbed her eyes again. "We should meet again someday, no? I'd like to meet you when you are a grown man."

"What?"

"I'm sure you will be handsome! I cannot wait."

"What happened? Why are we saying goodbye?"

"This is not goodbye. It is not a goodbye unless you allow it to be." Creole smiled a watery smile. I felt my insides clench involuntarily.

"Where are you going?"

"I only wanted to have parting words with you...and to wish you happiness. I could only imagine the troubles you had...you were so lost it seemed. But now, it looks as though things are different. I don't need to worry and neither should you for me."

"Where are you going?"

Creole tucked a curl behind her ear and stood up, "Away."

I stood up too. Was she leaving _now_?

Creole walked over, wrapping her arms around me in an embrace. I didn't enjoy the finality in the action. I held on.

"Near—"

"You're my friend. I get it—you're my friend. So, don't leave now. Don't leave. I didn't even have time to enjoy it."

"I regret that our time together seemed so short... Near, you must let go."

"Are you really leaving?"

"Near, I have to go..." her voice was nearing a cry again.

"We're friends..."

"We _are_ friends. Near, you have to let go now."

"Are you leaving soon?"

"After I've said my farewells..."

"Why hadn't you told me?"

"You were going through so much...I couldn't have heaped on more troubles for you. This is for the best. Near. We will forever be friends. You've improved so much already that I imagine you don't really need me either way."

"Creole..." She was carefully unwrapping my arms, forcing them apart.

"Now, now. You are not this clingy, do not pretend."

My arms were removed, and I dropped them down to my sides. They were useless either way.

"Are you really leaving?"

"Yes."

"..."

"..."

"I am going to miss you."

Creole smiled weakly. "I will miss all of you... You, Mello, and Matt. Everyone. I wish I hadn't ruined things for myself."

"Is this goodbye?"

"Non, non, non. Just...see you later." She stood on her tiptoes, kissing each of my cheeks with the softness of a gentle breeze. She pulled away, eyes still red yet not looking so sad. "Oui. See you later, Near. I wish you the best when growing up. I wish I could be here with you."

"See you later." I couldn't tell if she caught the whisper as I was finally able to force it as she turned to leave. Creole didn't look back. That was the last time I saw her. It turns out that she had been getting into trouble. She had been stealing, and this last time she had stolen something that no one was supposed to see. Creole was transferred. Whatever _that_ meant. I was...sad. It felt as if I had lost a friend as soon as I had made one. It began to snow regularly. I liked to wear the sweatshirt she'd given me, and there were times where it was unusual not to have her burst into a room. I would think, where is she? Soon enough, after enough cases of disappointment, I had finally convinced myself that she was not there anymore. Soon enough after that, I was back to what was my normal self. There was still Matt. And of course, there was still Mello.

* * *

"You have to lock the door if you want any privacy. It has become a habit of some people to walk in here without warning..." I offered the advice ironically, due to the fact that Mello had done exactly that.

Mello leaned his back into the door, closing it. "Oh, is that so?"

I didn't respond, concentrating on the soldier in my hands. I was bothered enough by their uniformity, that I had taken it upon myself to give each one their own characteristics. It took an unusual bit of creativity to make each one different, but I was determined. Painting over the plastic faces, there were now a combination of smiles, frowns, freckles, wrinkles, scars. I was actually impressed with what I was accomplishing.

"Are you still working on those things?" Mello asked, leaning around to see what I had been working on.

"Still? I only begun yesterday, and I'm nearly finished now."

"Why are you doing that?"

"Because it didn't make sense for them to be identical. All people are different in their own ways." I took the brush, giving the blue soldier thicker eyebrows. Then, I gave him a thick mustache to match.

"They're only toys."

"Maybe," I set the man down, twisting around to face Mello. He bumped his forehead against mine and straitened upright.

"Otherwise, you're not busy?"

"No. I finished all work I have in class."

"Alright..." Mello stood there, saying nothing else. His hands were inside his pockets, wiggling around.

"Anything else?"

"Not really. I just came to see you."

I couldn't just ignore him then. I scooted the chair back, the wooden legs scraping against the floor. Standing, I wasn't as short as I used to be. I've grown, haven't I? Mello is still taller, though I am about equal to how tall Matt is now. I stretched my back, reaching above my head. I shouldn't stay crouched like that for so long.

Mello wasn't saying anything. I stopped, curious.

"Nothing is wrong?"

He shook his head.

"Oh."

I tucked my hands into my hair, leaning to the side and stretching again. Mello and I haven't been alone with each other for a while, I think. There were a load of testing things we had to deal with, and when we weren't dealing with that, Matt was along with us. Hm.

"Do you wanna sit down? I guess there's nothing that interesting to talk about."

Mello sat down on the bed, and I sat next to him, still trying to stretch.

"How have you been?"

"I've been fine."

"Good." I twisted ninety degrees to the left, satisfied with the crack given. I rolled my shoulders, making sure everything was loose now.

Mello didn't say anything, and I didn't feel particularly pressed to, so we sat quietly side by side.

"Near."

I looked over, and Mello was staring right into my eyes. It had been a while since I looked. I still was drawn in by those eyes. The light and the dark...the feud I imagined between them was still memorizing. I was struck. Frozen. No, not frozen. I felt compelled to do so, and gave a kiss.

I could hear him breathe out heavily as I scooted closer, closing the gap between us. He was the only source of heat that I craved. Pressed more into the interaction, finally getting more of a response. Mello was keeping his promise, he never did anything that I hadn't asked for. Though, that leaves me having to ask for everything...and that has a way of ending things soon afterward, because I don't know what I should be asking for. For example...now.

I pulled away. I had to breathe.

"Mello?"

He didn't respond, aside from looking me in the eye.

"Could I...suggest something?" He probably wasn't going to answer, so I continued, "Could I just...give you permission? To do whatever?"

"Permission?"

"Yes... Permission to kiss, touch, and whatever comes with that."

"Really?"

I don't see why I would suggest it otherwise. I've come so far as to become comfortable enough with our relationship that I didn't produce a fever at a peck anymore... I suspected that I could survive a bit more than that then. "Yes, really."

I was surprised at the smile I received. Like a child on their birthday. Mello was suddenly crawling over me, pressing me into the bed with a fevered kiss. It was dizzying at first, but I was able to keep my brain from scattering and was able to realize how nice it was. His hair was ticklish on my face, and his fingers traveling all over. I could hear the zip as my sweatshirt was undone, and he helped my sit upright in order to take it off. There was a nice draft on my exposed skin...I hadn't been wearing any button-up today. Mello followed suit, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. I was pressed back into the sheets, victim to random nips across my torso. Each nip prompted my stomach to jerk, and I think he was enjoying that immensely.

"Y-you better st-ahp that... If you're l-eaving marks..."

Mello came back up to face me. "I don't _think _I am..."

"You better not risk it. I bruise easily, remember?"

Mello sighed, giving a quick kiss. "Ah."

He slid back down, pressing his mouth near my ribs. Suddenly, out came something hot, wet, and wriggling. I couldn't suppress the gasp, or squeak, or whatever you might call it...as I tried to squirm away from the tongue. Mello lifted his head away, and I could feel the cold air around the place his mouth had been.

"You don't like that either? It won't leave a mark..."

"It tickles."

"Is that bad?"

"I don't know..."

He returned to giving kisses instead, except when I didn't expect it, he would teasingly run his tongue along a ticklish spot, smirking at the response it got. He made it all the way back to my face, kissing my lips over and over until I kissed back. This was me. This was us. It's unbelievable...I thought I had been a hopeless case. Only someone who would experience the technicalities of life, not life itself. Now, I know happiness, sadness, arousal... I don't always understand what I feel, but apparently that is typical. I suffer all the symptoms of life, plus a few more...so what does that make me? Well, _technically_, alive.

* * *

**Thank you everyone who stuck with me until this day came! I love you all!**

**If you have any unresolved issues, feel free to PM me. I'd also LOVE to see your reviews to see what you thought about my work! Every time you favor and don't review, my heart becomes sad. Don't give me a sad heart! This was a super fun project, and I can't imagine what I'm going to do next... Thanks again!**


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